Is it love you run from?
by Monsaraz
Summary: "It's about being open and completely vulnerable to another person. If you can learn to be that deeply trusting – it changes you." Begins exactly where Love Hurts (1x20) left us; with House in his office looking at a picture – presumably of him and Stacy. Meanwhile, Cuddy is on a date. Well, sort of...
1. The date

**No R &R requested. This is for you and you alone. Say something if you feel like it. Mark this story as one of your favorites if it is indeed among your favorites. Follow only if you are curious about comes next.**

 **The characters are from the show House M.D. (which I certainly do not own - especially since I, Monsaraz, am no more than a figment of someone's imagination). They will be tranformed though, molded, kicked or punched, as I deem fit or simply out of a whim. Canon will sometimes be taken in consideration, sometimes it will be absolutely disregarded. Events that ocurred on the show will ocasionally come up, but perhaps in a completely different timeline or with a completely different purpose.**

 **This is a multi-chapter story.**

* * *

 **PART ONE**

 **Chapter 1**

 _It's about being open and completely vulnerable to another person. If you can learn to be that deeply trusting – it changes you._

It was what that woman told him that had made him grab the photo he has been looking at for more than an hour. _Deeply trusting… Damn right it changes you… You might even end up with a chunk of muscle ripped out from your leg!,_ he bitterly thought. But one can never truly lie to oneself, or at least he couldn't, and he knew that he no longer resented her. Well, maybe he still did, maybe he would never be able to fully disassociate her from the memory of how he felt – betrayed, violated even – when he woke up and found out that she'd gone against his wishes and authorized such butchery on his leg, but he was no longer angry at her and the truth was that, above all, he missed her. Now that time had given him more perspective and sent anger away, he blamed himself for pushing her away. She loved him and she didn't want him to die. She knew he wouldn't understand or forgive her – she'd told him that, some weeks before she left, after a fight, although he suspected that she had hoped for those things when she made her decision, but realizing they would never happen, she had resigned herself and accepted her fate as if there never was any other option – but she'd done it anyway. Wouldn't he do the same? To this question, he honestly did not have an answer. He'd done "worse" to his patients countless times before and would do countless times again, but if someone he loved, someone he respected…

Anyway, he wasn't thinking about any of this right now. He was just looking at the picture and longing for her, for love, for something that could fill the emptiness of his life where the puzzles could only distract him for a while, one at a time. God, he was alone! Normally, he was okay with that. But not now, now he was feeling the overwhelming weigh of his loneliness… _Shit, Greg! Get a grip of yourself!_ And with that, he put the picture back in the drawer, grabbed his backpack and got out of his office.

With his mind set to go home, he left the elevator on the first floor, but as he was passing by the reception, he heard a loud noise. He looked back and saw that the Dean's office has the lights on. Weird, since it was almost midnight and even his workaholic boss should have something better to do this late on a Saturday than sink herself in archives and budget reports.

He entered her office without knocking on the door and stopped on his track when he saw his boss on her knees picking up files that were spread across the floor in a slim purple dress that enhanced her feminine curves, ending just above the knee, and had a revealing neckline.

"My God, are you going on dates with budget reports now? Can't find a man so you've turned to more familiar applicants?"

She didn't look at him and continued to gather casefiles.

"Very funny, House."

"I'm serious. As a doctor, I can't help being medically concerned when people present think kind of kinkyness. As a matter of fact, consider yourself warned: the left ones appear to have sharper edges. I know you like it rough, but I don't think the danger is worth it. Then again, I'm not the one-"

"For crying out loud! Will you shut up?" Now she looked at him before standing up to put some of the files back on the shelf. "I probably _should_ just give up on men, considering how thoughtful you've been since you walked in here unannounced and so politely asked me if I needed any help," she said sarcastically while he noticed that her steps on her short trip to the shelf weren't very steady.

"That's either because I respect you too much as an independent modern woman who doesn't need a guy to do stuff for her…," she rolled her eyes at him, which made her dizzy enough to lose a bit of balance and need to lean her shoulder on the bookcase, "…or I have a bum leg. Or both, take your pick. And… you're drunk," he accused with a smirk, while sitting on the couch.

"I am not," she objected.

"You are."

"I am a little tipsy. That's completely different."

"And what are you doing here drunk and in that dress?"

"I am not drunk," she retorted, a bit more forcefully. She grabbed the last casefiles from the floor, which gave him a generous view of her breasts, and put them all but one in their place on the shelf. She answered his questioned after sitting on the couch next to her employee with the file opened in her hands. "I came here to look for a letter in this casefile. I need to prepare a meeting for Monday and I didn't want to come tomorrow just to get the letter."

He looked at his watch and said:

"Actually, it is tomorrow already, if by tomorrow you mean Sunday," he showed her his watch.

"Err, great, I've been here for forty-five minutes already and I can't find that stupid letter that should be here… somewhere…"

"That happens when you're drunk, letters blur and-"

"I am not drunk! How many times do I have to say it?"

"Gee… are you always this loose and relaxed when you're drunk?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"You're impossible," she said, strangely more calm. "Anyway what are _you_ doing here? Don't tell me there's not even one more hooker who can stand to spend half an hour with you?"

"Ouch, Cuddy! You know half an hour is not enough for a man of my size."

"You're disgusting," but she didn't use a disgusted tone, rather a matter-of-fact one.

"You're the one who talked about hookers."

"And childish. Look, can you please just go? I really need to find a letter from the Department of Health which I'm sure I put in here, but I can't find… Err… And it's been almost an hour and I should have gone back to the car already… I'm not even sure he's still there anymore-"

"Who's he?"

"No one. Never mind."

"Oh my God! You were on a date!" House looked at her dress and at her sudden embarrassment while realization hit him. "No, you _are_ on a date! And you interrupted it to come to the hospital to grab a file?" House looked thunderstruck and he laughed with amusement when Cuddy couldn't help but blush in embarrassment. "Must be one hell of a guy for you to come hide in here! I must say I am a bit surprised, couldn't you just send him home? Put him out of his misery? Never took you for the kind of woman who couldn't tell a guy you're not into him."

She still looked embarrassed, but tried to sound like there was absolutely nothing weird with this situation.

"I don't want to send him home. I like him, I want to continue my date with him. I just remembered I had forgotten this and if I hadn't come grab it right away I know I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it and-"

"Of course you'd be thinking about meetings and files and Department of Health's letters while on a date that you were enjoying-"

"Don't-"

"-make fun of you? How can I not? Even you have to admit this is ridiculous. Look, I'm not even blaming you, I actually get you: if you were bored enough to think about work stuff during dinner, even though you've engulfed the whole bottle of wine, how could you endure making sweet love to him… all the while feeling absurdly guilty over this… letter you forgot?" He almost seemed fond when he insulted her after. "You're such a little overachieving perfectionist. Really, Cuddy, you're a nutcase."

"Shut up!"

"They say all the pretty ones are… which means you're lucky: any guy would wait all night for you as long as there's the slightest chance of getting in your pants. And before you deny anything again, I know for a fact you put out on the first date-"

"No, you don't. We were never on a date. It was a party. One we didn't even went to together."

"You know that makes you sound even cheaper, right?"

"Please, you're the one who should have been harder to nail. I was just a freshman with big dreams and a lot to prove. You were the great Gregory House, the rebellious genius!" she said this sarcastically although it was no more than the truth. "Already a legend on Campus and among the medical community! I was actually disappointed, you were no challenge at all: all I had to do was show up at one party… I had barely arrived and you were already asking me to dance!..."

He smiled amusingly.

"You did have great assets… back then…"

"You bastard! Besides, how do you even know this is a first date? Wouldn't it make more sense that I was comfortable enough to make him wait in the car while I grabbed something from work if I'd been seeing him for a while?"

"Did you ever had a _second_ date?"

"Asshole. And I've been seeing this guy for three weeks."

"Congratulations! My, three weeks! What does that make? A date for a week? Do three dates make it comfortable enough for him to know that you're the mother of all workaholics and the hospital will always come first?"

She didn't respond, but continued instead to shuffle through pages of the big casefile. She spent an entire minute doing that and when she reached the last of the pages she practically dropped the entire casefile on the floor, threw herself in the sofa and covered her face with her hands.

"I don't know where I put it! And how am I supposed to go back to the car now? It's been almost an hour! He hates me!"

"As long as you-"

"Yes, yes, as long as I put out…"

They were silent for a while and then she looked at House said:

"You didn't tell me how you date with Cameron went. Did you wear the sky-blue shirt?"

"I did, I'm nothing if not a good momma's boy. And nobody left the other inside a car for an hour in the middle of the date…" She scowled at him. "…probably because we went our separate ways after the dinner, otherwise I'm sure that would have been my next move in order to get her off my back. Unlike you, I don't think my damaged body would be worth such a long wait."

"Why did you want her off your back? I thought you liked her."

"Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't you? She's beautiful, she's smart, I know you like the fact that she's sweet despite your constant mocking… and she likes you!"

"Well, I guess I should just settle then!" he said in a mock-hurt tone.

She chuckled.

"You could settle for a lot worse."

He didn't respond immediately, after a moment he asked instead: "What about you? Why are you here talking to me instead of going back to your date?"

She was a bit taken aback by the question and was carefully considering her answer, probably to avoid further embarrassment. Eventually she shrugged in a _I give up_ sort of way and answered with an honest and defeated voice.

"I don't think I want to go back. I don't know why. He's a great guy, he's funny, he's charming, he's polite, got a good job and he's even good in the… you know… – She looked at him sideways, he _knew_.– and he seems to like me-"

"I'm sure he does," he said, looking her up and down.

She rolled her eyes, but continued.

"-but I'm with him and I can't stop feeling that I'm not as engaged as I should be, that I don't _really_ want to be there, you know?"

"You're bored,"he said with acute simplicity.

She laughed, a mixture of frustration and resignation.

"Basically, yeah. God, what is wrong with me?"

She laughed again and he gave her a sympathetic smile and then they were silent for a while, not looking at each other until he asked:

"Is your car in the parking lot or in the garage?"

"In the parking lot, why?"

"Mine's in the garage… If you wanted, I could take you home… I mean… If you're more in a run-away-from-trouble-mood than an angry-parking-lot-scene-mood?"

She was touched by his offer and simultaneously a bit amused by how embarrassing it had been for him to make it, which touched her even more. She smiled at him and got up. She took a bottle of scotch from the small cupboard near the desk and then turned to him:

"Thank you, House. I think I'd like to have a drink before going home right away. Maybe when I leave he won't be there anymore." She self-consciously laughed, noticing that House seemed uncomfortable and had an almost painful expression on his face, because in that moment he was regretting offering to drive her home: he almost never offered to do something nice for anybody else and she was rejecting his rare act of kindness, and that always hurt, even if he knew that she could just be trying to be polite and avoid being an inconvenience for him. _Why do you always make such a big deal out of these little things?_ , someone had once told him, an old girlfriend perhaps. _You sensitive little frail_ , that he remember who'd said, over and over again: only _he_ would use that old slang word for "girl". But she wasn't done talking. "Would you have a drink with me? I don't really want to go home yet. I wasn't expecting to be alone tonight… it's stupid, really, I could just go home with the guy who's waiting for me…" Another self-conscious laugh.

"Sure. When have I ever said no to a drink? What have you got there?"

"I know you know what drinks I have in my cupboard, House." She chuckled good-heartedly, relieved.

He smirked mischievously. She poured two glasses of scotch and gave him one.


	2. Avoidance

**Chapter 2**

"You've been doing clinic duty."

"It is always pleasant when one gets recognition from his peers."

"And you're avoiding me."

"I won't have to if you leave my table now."

"And you're paying for you own lunch."

"Oh, is that why you're here? Are your feelings hurt because I no longer need your lunch money? It's okay, Jimmy, many bullied kids develop weird affections for their bullies and then get hurt when they find new, younger, better kids to bully."

"You know what I think?"

"I'm sure you are about to tell me."

"Here are the facts. Cameron called you Sunday asking you out to dinner again and you refused. The next morning, you don't show up to work. In fact, you're lucky Cuddy had that important meeting with the government authorities yesterday morning, because she would have killed you for coming to work at 2 pm for no reason."

"My leg hurt."

"You did clinic duty until 5pm and went home. Yesterday you did clinic duty all morning and went home early."

"Couldn't take it anymore. Did you know there are people who eat their cat's hairballs? Apparently, it's a thing. And my leg hurt."

"Today you spent the entire morning in the clinic again. You're having lunch later than usual when you think I'm busy-"

"Didn't you have a patient whose unconscious hand you're supposed to be holding right now?"

"My patient's surgery was rescheduled. As I was saying, you're avoiding lunch with me. But I'm not the only one you're avoiding. Every time your team has come to you with a new case you've dismissed them-"

"Because they have only brought me crappy cases!"

"Now, I don't think you are avoiding your _team_ , but rather a certain _member_ of your team, which you would only do if you regretted not having dinner with her. Face it, House: you'd have no reason to avoid Cameron if you really didn't want to go out with her, she's the one who was rejected, so she's the one who should be embarrassed. You wanted to go, but you were scared that you might actually have a serious chance with her, otherwise she wouldn't ask you out again. And now you don't know how to act around her, because you're supposed to act like you don't want anything to do with her, but the problem is… you do want something with her!"

Wilson looked triumphant and House looked like someone who wanted to get shot in the head. So he stood up and headed outside the cafeteria. Wilson followed him.

"Now it's your turn to do something, House. If you want her, you're the one who's going to have to ask now."

 _"If_ I want her? I thought you'd already established that I did."

"If you don't want her badly enough to ask her out, then you don't _really_ want her."

"Then I guess I don't _really_ want her."

"Don't do this, House. Don't throw away-"

Wilson couldn't finish his sentence because House entered an exam room and closed the door in his face.

* * *

House was watching a soap opera with a middle-aged fat housewife, when Chase came storming through the exam room with a case. A crappy, boring case, if House was one to judge. A drug-addicted with memory problems.

"She doesn't remember her own birthday!"

"That happens when you don't celebrate it for many years. I'm guessing she traded the strawberry cake for a shot of heroin over ten years ago. Oh, and I read on the handouts outside that _heroin affects your memory_!"

"Not this fast! This was sudden, out of the blue!... If it were the drugs her memory would be slowly deteriorating-"

"In your face!" The hot nurse from the soap opera just slapped the hot doctor in the face. "I'm guessing your ship is sinking, Amelia. Go team McCalsey!"

Chase snorted and left the room.

* * *

The next day, House was still doing clinic duty.

All members of the team successfully trapped him in the bathroom.

"My goodness, Cameron! Are you so desperate to see it?"

Cameron made a disgusted face. Foreman made his combination of disgusted, angry, and impatient face and Chase just said:

"House, we need a case! Liver guy-"

"Hep C!"

"His viral load levels are below the line!"

"That's because he completed an ineffective treatment only a month ago. Trust me, next month his levels are going to be as bad as before." He finished washing his hands and headed toward the door. Chase and Foreman left first, but Cameron blocked his way.

"Look, House. Things don't have to be awkward."

"You're the one in the men's room."

"I get it. You're punishing me. You figure I won't leave you alone if you don't show me just how much you can't stand my school girl's crush gaze upon you…" House smirked, he had to hand it to her, she played it cool. "If I promise I won't ever ask you out again, will you take one of the cases?"

"Nope." And he left.

* * *

"You've got to do something about House!"

Cuddy was trying to figure out some budgetary discrepancies of one of the hospital's departments and she wasn't in the mood for high school dilemmas.

"Why? He's done more clinic hours in the last three days than in the last three years! I'm cashing in!"

"He's refused at least three good cases. Interesting cases."

"Trust me, if there was a truly challenging case among those, nothing would have kept him from taking it."

"So that's it? You'd rather have a highly payed doctor, four highly payed doctors-"

"Wilson, if people knew how much Foreman, Chase and Cameron made a year, they'd truly learn the meaning of overly-qualified."

"-cleaning noses and switching bandages?"

"Didn't know you felt this way about the clinic, Wilson." She sighed, annoyed. "You think my work is going to disappear just because you want me to run after House?" She lowered her head and fully concentrated on her work.

Wilson got up and headed toward the door. But then he stopped and turned around.

"He doesn't know what to do about Cameron, you know."

She closed her eyes in frustration.

"Oh, God, Wilson! Not the Cameron talk again!"

"I'm just saying. This isn't good. Not for her, not for him and certainly not for the hospital: she already quit once, Cuddy. Consider yourself warned. It's got disaster written all over it." And he left.

* * *

She caught House in his office, sitting on his desk chair, putting some stuff in his backpack before leaving the hospital to go home. She leaned her shoulder on the door frame and shot:

"You need to sleep with Cameron."

He first looked at her with surprise and then put on a childish-whining expression.

"You know, just because I work for you, doesn't mean you can dispose of my body as you like!" After a short pause, he asked, knowing the answer: "Wilson?"

Cuddy smiled.

"He thinks you need to do something about it. I'm not sure what. I suppose it's not actually sex, well, not _just_ sex… it's probably something more… fulfilling."

"Can't think of anything more fulfilling than sex."

"Hence, my recommendation."

He smirked. She sat on the chair facing his desk and after a moment said:

"You've been avoiding me."

He didn't respond, just kept staring at her. She continued.

"If only you'd told me all I had to do to make you do your clinic duty was sleeping with you, I'd have known you were even cheaper than what I thought when I hired you."

He gave her an amused smile. But that quickly faded, because he did not want to have _the talk_. And he knew it was coming. She was still the one who spoke.

"Look, I've been thinking about this" _Oh, God! How predictable can women be? Everybody knows where this speech is heading: it shouldn't have happened, but it did, so now we just have to forget about it and move on, etc., etc.,_ he thought. What she said next, however, took him completely by surprise. "I had a really good time. I think you did too." She gave him a sexy knowing smile, just with the tinniest bit of uncertainty enough to be graceful. "And I can't really see why we can't do it again. I mean, we're both single people who work crazy hours a week, which doesn't leave us much time to meet new people. So what, maybe we're destined to miss the wonders of true love and white picket fences-"

"Hey! Speak for yourself!" he managed to say, despite his shock.

"-but that doesn't mean we can't have fun. We could… fulfill some needs, at least." She winked at the word _fulfill_. _Could this woman be any sexier?_ He slightly quivered at the thought that yes, she could. And she knew it. Oh, yes: this was a woman who did not play fair. "You already make distasteful comments about my breasts, so I don't think you can make much more damage to my reputation. Well… what do you say?"

This was not what he was expecting. He expected looks of regret and awkwardness until things slowly got back to normal. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what to think about what had happened yet, that's why he'd been avoiding her. He didn't want to interact with her before straightening everything in his head. But none of that mattered now. What could he say to that other than:

"Sure. 7 o'clock? My place?"


	3. Routine

**Chapter 3**

They had been having sex for a month. Mostly at his place, since he either left work earlier than her or had a complicated case that required him to stay at the hospital until such late hours that it was no longer possible to find her awake at hers. They were nevertheless having considerable amounts of sex. Her initial idea had actually been to do a single repeat, just another one time thing: that's what she had in mind when she went to his office to make her proposition. But House got the idea that she meant several repeats, rather than just one more and the truth was that the same logic of her speech applied to further encounters. So there they were: repeating over and over again. She thought they'd probably do it a couple of times during the week, mostly at weekends, however they seemed both insatiable and had even done it a few times in an exam room, always after he paged her for "a consult", and one time in her office bathroom, after a big fight about a kidney biopsy that had them at each other throats. The intensity of her own needs had somewhat surprised her.

He was almost sweet when he received her at his home, in a detached sort of way, sometimes having dinner ready for her, if it was late and there was no way she would go to his place if she had to eat first. On one or two occasions he had even cooked it himself. _I didn't know you could cook_ , she'd told him, _this was actually really good._ _Women drool over a man just for knowing what_ coq au vin _means,_ he responded, _and they simply can't help falling on their knees for a man who can make it_. _This is good, House, but it's not_ coq au vin _good_ , she retorted. _Can't use my charms all at_ once, he said. Are _you trying to seduce me, House?,_ she'd asked while getting up from the table to lead him to the bedroom by the hand. _Don't get me wrong,_ _I want to be responsible for your fainting during intense physical exercise. But not because I didn't feed you properly_ , he'd answered in a low voice near her ear.

She never stayed the night, however. It was easier to sleep at her place after being with him, otherwise she'd have to go home in the morning anyway to shower and put new clothes on before going to work, which would be tiresome and mess completely with her yoga schedule. She didn't even stay for the weekend, because she worked Saturday morning and Sunday was a day she had for herself. She liked to go jogging early in the morning, then take a shower and have breakfast at a little coffee shop near the mall. She would then go shopping. In the afternoon she picked up a novel she always felt a little guilty for not having finished reading long ago, but usually ended up preparing work for the next day.

He did stay one night at her place, a rare weekday in which he was the one to go to her place. His leg was throbbing after they'd done it in an unusual position and she'd told him he could wait for the pills to kick in before going. Then he'd fallen asleep and she didn't have the heart to wake him up. He woke up while she was getting dressed. She told him she was leaving to work and there was bread and cereals he could have for breakfast, the milk was in the fridge and the coffee was already made in the machine. He could also have a shower if he wanted, but he ought to be at the hospital at 9 o'clock. She knew the last remark would fall on deaf ears.

As soon as she left he started snooping around, delighting himself in the amazing world of lacy bras, purple thongs, black fishnet stockings and many other wonders of Cuddy's lingerie. He did not find anything very revealing though, other than her a box with a couple of sex toys under the bed, nothing out of the blue. She looked good in her high school yearbook, no pimples, no big nerd glasses; there were some photos of her and her family in her bedroom and photos of her sister's family (a husband and two kids). Inside a drawer in the living room, there were albums of other photos of her and her family, of her and some high school and college friends (hippier-looking people than one would have imagined of Cuddy's acquaintances), of her in a mission in Africa with Doctors Without Borders, of her and a boyfriend, Andrew, _Mr. Perfect_ , House used to mock. It was by far the longest relationship House had ever known her to be in. They were together for about six months and she had ended it two years ago rather abruptly, judging by how it took the guy by surprise: he'd spilled his heart out to Wilson, after coming drunk to the hospital one afternoon, claiming that the only reason she'd given him was that things were moving too fast and she felt overwhelmed, which the poor guy couldn't understand since they were only half living together, because he had to be every three weeks in the other side of the country for business.

Not finding anything more intriguing, something he could use to make Cuddy's life hell, House went, disappointed, to his place to take a shower before work, despite her previous offer of having one at her home.

* * *

He was the one who suggested that they spent Saturday's evening at her place, not that she had opposed to the idea. Inwardly, she was concerned that he would disturb her Sunday morning routine, because there would be no reason for him not to spend the night at her place, since the next day there was no work, but she said nothing of this. He had told her he feared Wilson would show up at his door, because he and his wife were having a huge many-days-lasting fight about vacation programming. Wilson wanted to stay near town and Julie wanted to go to some Caribbean beach. Of course, Wilson would eventually give in, but first he would want to sulk away from her with House, beers and wrestling or monster trucks. Or he would want to sulk because he'd given in already. This was all true, but staying the night was something he'd wanted to do for a while: he had been thinking more and more about ravishing her in the morning as his first action of the day.

So there they were, in bed, at night, still breathing a little heavier than normal from having driven each other to the peak of pleasure.

"So, Wilson's been worried about you."

"Well, that's new!"

"He claims you've been distracted and that you're still avoiding him."

"As long as I'm not avoiding averagely-interesting cases in order to allegedly avoid Cameron, I guess I'm safe from the worst of his mother hen wrath."

"You need to spend more time with him. He's driving me crazy! He gave me a half-an-hour speech during lunch two days ago because you didn't go to that monster truck thing with him!"

"I'm just a pretext, someone he can hover about in order to keep himself from thinking about his wrecked marriage."

She looked at him then, with a concerned expression on her face.

"Poor guy… Is it that bad?"

"Are you kidding? They don't talk anymore, they only fight. He likes them needy, not bossy… Right now she's got more than she needs, so what does she do? She keeps demanding… time, attention, vacations, you name it… and every time he gives in, and he always gives in, he resents her a little bit more... I don't think it will last until the end of this year," he said with a scornful expression.

"Don't be like that! He's your friend, he's going through a rough time… shouldn't you be more understanding?"

"I understand well enough, I thought I had just showed you how much I understand… Look, it's for the best… He needs to be needed, so he chooses needy women who have just left a bad relationship or whose parents are dying so that he can make them feel better. And when they are all fixed and happy, he loses interest. He needs to put an end to his misery, and his wife's misery by the way, and start looking for a new broken soul to help rising from the see of brokenness."

"Good thing you're too screwed up to be fixed. He'll always love you," she said with a mocking childish pout.

"You know, I think you're right… There really is no end for my neediness…" he told her with an _if you know what I mean_ look.

She laughed her throaty laugh. A sound he was hearing more often these days. One he liked more than he cared to admit.

"Don't get ahead of yourself! There's no way you're ready for another round yet."

She got up without putting any clothes on and he appreciated the sight of her naked body. She did have a fabulous body. Before leaving the room, she turned to him.

"I'm thirsty, I'm going to get some juice, you want some?"

"Yeah, thanks."

She went to the bathroom first and then came back with two glasses of orange juice. They were drinking it silently, until she asked suddenly:

"Do you think he ever truly loved her? Or any of his previous wives?"

He thought for a moment before answering.

"I don't know. He loves being needed, maybe that's his way of loving. He was irresistibly attracted to all of them, of that I'm sure."

"No, it can't just be about someone having needs and another one needing to tend to those needs."

"What is it about then, Dr. Cuddy?" he challenged.

"I don't know, you tell me. You loved Stacy. What was it all about?"

"Oh, no, you're the one who started this whole embarrassing talk, you keep me out of it!"

"We're both talking. Why can't we talk?"

"You never talk about your personal life, don't ask me to talk about mine."

"That's not true. Of course, it's not something that usually comes up when you're trying to make me authorize a brain biopsy to cure a liver disease…"

"No, you _never_ talk. You're the most private person I know. Including myself, which is pretty remarkable. And a little scary…" She rolled her eyes at him. "At least I have Wilson to talk to. Sure, I mostly pretend to listen to him talk about his boring marital issues, but there are rare occasions when I talk… about chicks I wanna screw if nothing else. Who do you talk to?"

"I talk to my sister-"

He scoffed.

"You probably listen to your sister's babbling about her kids and complaining about her husband, and you tell her superficially what's going on with your life. You don't _talk_."

"How would you know?"

"I've seen you with her."

"Once! You've seen her once! That one time she came to see me at the hospital!"

"You're not that close. I get it, she's a pretentious-"

"Hey!

"Ok, fine, you wanna talk? Why did you broke up with that guy, what was his name, Doug… Darren?"

"Andrew?"

"Right, Andrew, Mr. Perfect."

"I hated when you called him that."

"Well, he was a pretentious-"

"He was not! He hardly ever talked about himself! Are all successful people pretentious?"

"Nope. Your sister, for example, is a mediocre teacher-"

"Stop trash-talking my sister!"

"Why did you broke up with him?"

"Didn't he tell everything about our break up to Wilson, that day he came drunk to the hospital? I'm sure Wilson spilled the beans to you as soon as he could."

"He did. I'm asking _you_ now. See, you can't do this. You keep deflecting. I'm starting to think you're physically incapable of talking about something personal. Maybe it's a thing, who knows, someone should do some research about it. That or you're the most emotionally screwed up person I know."

She seemed hurt by his comment, and he actually felt a pang of guilt. She quickly recovered though.

"He was trying to rush things-"

"Did he want you to go to California with him? Permanently?"

"What? No."

"Did he ask you to marry him?"

"No. I thought you wanted me to talk and now you're not letting me."

"I'm not the one who wanted to talk. And you were just giving me the same crap you've given him. Not even he believed it, Cuddy."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine, then we can agree that it's better not to talk about this stuff."

They were sitting with their backs against the headboard and he grabbed the book he had brought with him. After a while he noticed that she was looking at him with a suspicious look on her face. He looked at her, which startled her.

"Do you want me to go? Are you mad? I don't think there's reason to-"

"I'm not mad."

"Okay."

After a pause, she began:

"I didn't lie about my reasons… I didn't want to take him to my family for Thanksgiving. My mother invited us and I couldn't find a reason to say no. I even proposed to him last minute to make a sexcapade to some island in the Pacific…," she laughed wryly, "…telling him it would be embarrassing and awkward to be around my family and I understood if he didn't want to come, but he actually wanted to go, he wanted to meet my parents. I suppose that's normal if you're in a relationship for half a year and you want it to evolve into…"

Since she paused, he concluded.

"Meeting the family is a big step forward. Always a dreadful one, especially when you're not sure if you want to keep evolving the whole thing or terminate it."

"Yeah, I suppose so. Bringing him to my parents… they would be all excited that I had met someone… someone whom they would undoubtedly love… just to disappoint them all over again when it ended…"

"And you _knew_ it would end, probably soon. 'Cause you wanted out already. Just like you didn't want to go back to your date in the car last month."

"I guess." A pause. "My mother says I have impossible standards."

"You should have nothing less than impossible," he said with a mixture of mockery and honesty. Looking at her like this, slightly vulnerable, made him think, before immediately regretting his silly romanticism, that if anyone was worth attempting to reach impossible standards for, it would be her.

"Funny, House." After a moment, she added: "She's wrong. I'm not looking for Mr. Perfect. I never was. But I don't regret refusing to settle for… for…"

"For someone you didn't love," he finished in an even tone. Then he continued with an impersonation of a 19th century novel heroin: "I shan't settle for less than love! But… does it even exist? Will I ever find it?"

"Stop mocking me! You're one to talk! You know, Stacy told me a few times all about your closeted romanticism."

"Oh, shut up!"

After a moment, he asked:

"So you didn't love this Andrew idiot, but did you ever really loved someone?"

She was taken aback yet again.

"Of course I did! What kind of question is that?"

"Why so defensive? It's not like love's popping out from every corner of the streets. I'm curious though, how did your great love story ended?"

"I never said I lived some great love story. It just ended. Who cares about how?"

"It sucks less if you're the one to end it."

"How would you know?"

"Nice."

After a moment Cuddy said:

"So… are you up for another round now or what?"

House laughed and pulled her legs abruptly, which made her lie back down on the bed. It didn't take him much time to be completely up again.


	4. What about love anyway?

**This chapter compelled me to change the rating to M.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

The next morning she woke up a bit later than usually, because he'd convinced her to turn off the alarm clock, since he would like to sleep more than five hours on a Sunday. She watched him sleep for a while. He looked peaceful, which was a strange sight because he was usually so intense, fighting her about treatments, insulting patients, mocking pretty much anything. Or he simply sulked silently in his balcony, with a painful expression, perhaps thinking about a case, many times thinking about Stacy… Five years morning the loss of his leg and of his girlfriend… Blaming her for going behind his back, perhaps blaming himself for pushing her away… Cuddy knew he'd been a mess after she left, not that he was not a mess before, but she suspected it had been borderline suicidal around that time, considering a couple of plaintive hints Wilson had thrown in the air, in those moments when he had been particularly desperate about his friend's well-being. Yes, it was strange to see him like this.

It was also strange the way she felt she could trust him. That's why she had opened herself a little to him last night. Her mind kept telling her that it was a mistake, because she knew he could be cruel when he really wanted to hurt, and opening herself to him meant giving him free ammunition to use in less peaceful times. He could go far beyond his usual mockery and insults: he knew where to poke the sharp stick when he wanted to. That's why he'd called Andrew Mr. Perfect. He was just too good to be… bearable. And House just had to keep pointing that out. By doing nothing more than using that simple irritating nickname. Every time he called him that, she couldn't help hating her boyfriend a little. Surely, she tried to channel most of that hate towards House, but in the end she couldn't help agreeing with him. So she had ended it. Because she couldn't stand imagining a future with Mr. Perfect by her side. My God, how her mother and sister had fumed in indignation! But what hurt her the most was the sad smile her father had given her, one where she could see his worry about her happiness. _It's okay, sweetheart_ , his father had told her after her mother and sister had finally left her alone, _as long as you keep loving me, I don't really care about any other man in your life_. She'd cried that night, not for Andrew, not for herself, but for her father, because she wanted to be happy for him. She was proud of her career and of her accomplishments and if that were truly enough for her, she believed that would be enough for him too. But he knew better than that, knew her better than that, knew she didn't want to be alone. So she cried, feeling guilty for dumping Andrew, for not loving him. For not sticking with him despite not loving him. What about love anyway? What had love actually given her but sorrow and pain?

She was looking at House and she suddenly wished she could make him always look peaceful like this. It wasn't possible, his ever-present pain and restless mind would never allow it, but she wished she could. It felt good to see him at least take a break from his demons. Maybe that's what Cameron wanted too, what Wilson tried as well.

She left a note on her pillow saying she was going jogging and left the house. When she returned she looked sideways at the bedroom and saw that he was still in bed, so she went to the bathroom right away to shower. She had just begun showering when she heard the door opening. He pulled the tub curtain aside and said:

"You sneaky little lady! Here I was, thinking I was going to have a proper wakeup call and what do you do? You run away!"

"I always jog Sunday morning, before breakfast."

He had slept naked so all he had to do to join her was get inside the tub.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm joining you. I'm sure that back of yours has not been properly cleaned for ages."

"I'm pretty flexible, I can reach every inch of my back with my hands." She showed him how true that was. "What about _your_ back?"

"I certainly don't have your flexibility. But it's also so much easier to request an extra pair of hands."

"To whom? Wilson? I don't believe you'd ask your hookers to wash your back."

"Why wouldn't I? They aren't insensitive heartless princesses like you, you know, they care about a man's needs and well-being."

"I'm sure they do. Here, turn around."

She rubbed his back with the soap, slapping lightly one of his butt cheeks when she was done.

"Your turn now," he said.

She turned around and he started to clean her back with soap too, going all the way down to her ass. Then his hands travelled upwards again. He massaged her shoulders for a brief moment and then one of his hands grabbed her breast from behind and she gasped a little sharply, while the other hand also wandered through her front side, not stopping at the other breast though, going all the way down to her sex. He started to rub her clitoris in circles and now she moaned. His right hand kept massaging her breast, and now two of his fingers were squeezing her nipple. He kissed her neck and sucked her earlobe while his left hand kept working on her clit and his right one now grabbed her other, until now neglected, breast. She moaned louder, feeling his erection on her back, and whispered, _House_. He then entered her with two fingers and her ragged breathing stopped for a second before she moaned even louder. _House._ He kept entering her and leaving her and squeezing her nipple and biting her neck. _House._ All the while rubbing her swollen bud in circles with his thumb. _House._ She grabbed the water tap with a hand, because her hands were wet from the water and they were slipping from the wall where she had put them to steady herself. _House._ After reaching her peak, she leaned her back on the wall to recover. She looked at him. She saw his formidable bulge and the desire in his eyes and took him to the bedroom.

* * *

They ate breakfast and spent the rest of the morning in bed. Talking, mostly mocking people from the hospital, laughing and having sex. She made lunch for them, while he alternated between groping her and watching TV. At lunch, light conversation kept flowing. He'd always liked her sense of humor and the fact that she was making fun of people she was usually so polite with at work made him feel a strange sense of pride in being the one who got to see her like this instead of one of the assholes she was mocking. She surely had no problem making fun of him too. He liked that perhaps even more.

She felt trash-talking people from work with House hold no danger at all, because everybody already hated him, so it wasn't like he'd talk to any of them about it later. Not that she thought he would say anything, she knew that he was a jerk most of the time, but he wasn't a snitch and he kept his loyalty to the people in his circle. She enjoyed this new proximity with him. She was proud, as his boss, that she could, if not completely control him, because that would be far from possible, at least _manage_ him. That he respected her enough to avoid crossing a line that would give her no choice but to fire him. They frustrated each other often, but they managed, and no one had been capable of managing him for so long. No one had even come close. But now she was also proud to be closer to him on this more personal level. He wasn't one to let people be around him for long just for the sake of having people around.

– You know what happened, Jenkins didn't get the money for his trial and quit.

– I want to hear you telling the story, I heard you pulled quite the trick on him. But I want to know what actually happened and what are just rumours.

– Okay, so Jenkins had secretly convinced Harris and Morrison and two other board members to agree to give him enough money for his ridiculous trial. The authorization, that he totally blackmailed the FDA agent into giving him by the way, that is another bubble waiting to burst, the authorization would arrive in three months, so he wanted to make the proposal along with the budget voting. All he needed was another favorable vote and I was sure that if he'd have enough time, he'd be able to sweet talk Dennis, that selfish bastard, in exchange for agreeing to replace some equipment in the pediatrics. The really big guys, the ones with the money who no one ever sees but ultimately decide all of our fates, would kill me if I let that happen… So I asked permission to present the budget to vote before the usual timing, claiming there had been extraordinary expenses because of the nurse's strike, which was true: we did have to pay more extraordinary hours, though it was not nearly as bad as we'd been prepared for, 'cause nurse Smith, the head of the nurses' negotiation commission, agreed to rearrange shifts in a less damaging way. So I presented the budget draft, proposing to meet most of these sellout board members' requests only in the next year, directing the money overtly for Jenkins's trial, which I said would be the better investment PPTH would make since opening the new cancer ward… Of course they didn't accept this and wanted to change the budget. Needless to say, Jenkins got a whole lot of apologies, but not a single penny! He even thanked me for my unexpected support! Boy, that felt good! I told him I'd given his trial a lot of thought after our last meeting and realized what an opportunity it was for us. I'm pretty sure he was suspicious, but had no choice but to thank me and "appreciate my efforts and open-mindedness".

– You evil, cunning woman! And you say you don't know why all children run away from you when you're out on the streets! Ah, the wonders of hospital politics! Who even needs medical puzzles to solve? I bet you get off on the memory of Jenkins's teary face alone!

– Damn right I do! If I had a picture of that moment I wouldn't even need you anymore!

She laughed throatily and he chuckled.

– But don't you have a cushion for crisis like the nurses' one? How come they didn't try to get that money first?

– Oh, that money was conveniently unavailable as an act of good faith from the hospital administration toward the nurses' negotiation commission until the strike ended. That's why I needed to haste the budget voting, so that it would happen before the nurses' strike came to an end and we had most of the money available again. It was my treat in exchange for the shifts rearrangement. Everybody thought it had been Smith's idea… she was like the Che Guevara of the nurses after that meeting I had with her. That money was supposed to cover the retroactive wages the nurses wanted. It did cover them, about 30% of their initial demands. It was better than what they were hoping for and half of Jenkins's crazy grand trial.

– Have I said it before? You're an evil, cunning woman!

* * *

After lunch, Cuddy needed to go shopping for the week and House decided to spend the afternoon with Wilson. They were watching TV in House's place and drinking beer.

– So, are you gonna tell me what's up with you?

– Don't you have a wife to nag at home? Do you need to pester me as well?

– I know you're keeping something from me, House. Okay, so maybe you're not avoiding me, but you're definitely up to something.

– I'm a mysterious guy. It keeps the girls interested. And you too, apparently.


	5. Coming clean

**Chapter 5**

House was in Cuddy's office, both sitting with her desk in between.

"So… maybe I should just start dating Cameron."

"She can't give the authorization you want either."

"You know, the use of _either_ in that sentence is inaccurate, since you _can_ give me the authorization, you just don't _want_ to. It's quite different."

She rolled her eyes.

"Were you hit by a lightning and realized Cameron was the love of your life?"

"I can't stand Wilson anymore. He keeps nagging me for keeping something from him. And he seems to be pretty sure about what that something is."

She thought for a moment and then said:

"So tell him."

"About Cameron?"

"About us."

"You're not serious."

"I am. There's no reason to hide anything from him. I'm surprised he doesn't know yet. And I can't keep listening to you complaining about Wilson bothering you. Nor Wilson pestering me about you."

"You realize what that means, right? He'll want to talk about feelings. He'll say stuff like: _It can't be just about sex! Otherwise the sky will fall and all the little birds will die smashed against our windows!"_

"Don't be so dramatic. I actually think it's better to tell. We should also report the sexual nature of our relationship to Human Resources. We should have done it already."

"If that's what you want…"

"It is."

He stood to leave and gave a few steps toward the door. The he stopped and turned to her, speaking in a soft voice:

"They're gonna come after you… about the Vogler thing…"

She was touched by his concern and smiled reassuringly.

"The Vogler thing lost a voting in which I didn't even participate. People should be more concerned if you slept with Mathews or Gordon…"

He smiled at that.

"And my brain biopsy?"

"The answer is still no. You should try sleeping with the boss."

* * *

House was lying down on the couch. He had not said a word since he had walked in Wilson's office. Wilson was therefore ignoring his presence.

"So…," House finally started "...I've been having sex."

Wilson didn't look up.

"Good for you. Not so good for your bank account, I suppose."

"I'm not paying for it. I'm that good."

Now Wilson looked up.

"Really? You... what? Have a girlfriend?"

"God, no! Good old hot sex, without all the boring mushy parts. You know what they say, say yes to flings, no to strings."

"Do I know her? Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been avoiding you, I've just been occupied."

"Do I know her?"

"Do we ever really know anyone?"

"I do know her! Hmm... It's not Cameron or she'd been gleefully shining…"

"Definitely not Cameron."

"So…?"

House sighed.

"It's Satan."

Wilson suddenly looked extremely annoyed.

"Were you just fooling me? I'm working, House!"

"I'm not kidding. I've been losing myself in the Mother of All Evil's fountain of wicked pleasure."

"Look, whatever you game is, just-"

"It's Cuddy."

Wilson looked stunned for a second. Then he recovered and laughed.

"Good one, House." He became annoyed again. "Look, I really am worki-"

"I'm not kidding. It's Cuddy."

House said it with no hint of amusement, looking straight in his friend's eyes, which widened in awe when he realized that the diagnostician wasn't joking.

"You mean… You… and Cuddy… Was it… a one time thing or…?"

"That would mean I had incorrectly used the present perfect continuous when I said _I've been having sex_ , and you know how warmly I feel about grammar."

"Since when then? And how? I…"

"Ok, so I thought you should know…" House stood up, intending to leave, but Wilson rushed to the door, blocking his way out.

"How long has this been going on? And how-"

"Seriously, Wilson, I'm not going to tell you _how_ …"

"I don't mean that… Stop deflecting! You can't just say that and leave!"

House realized the only way to leave would be to hit Wilson with his cane until he stopped blocking the door and, although hitting Wilson was something that he was craving in this moment, he decided to sit back down on the couch.

"It started a little over a month ago-"

"A month ago? And you only tell me now?!"

"I was trying to avoid giving you a heart attack, but she wanted to go public, telling everything about my bed skills to HR, so I figured you should have a real doctor around you when you found out."

"She's going to tell HR? What is she gonna say? I mean, if you're not dating _…_ _House_ _and_ _I… we're not_ _dating_ _,_ _we_ _'re_ _not_ _really_ _friends_ _even, but I'm giving him the_ _benefits anyway… consider it a special perks addition to his contract_ _...?"_

"I believe she was more professional about it, something like _report the sexual nature of our relationship_."

"So, let me get this straight. You've been having regular…," he made a questioning look, to which House replied with a smirk, _definitely_ _regular_. "...sex with Cuddy for a month, but you're not dating, it's a strictly no-strings kind of thing?"

"Exactly."

"Hmm." _Great, now comes the falling sky and dying birds speech_ , House thought. But Wilson merely replied after being quiet for a whole fifteen seconds:

"Okay. Good for you, House, she's… Really, good for you."

"Really? You're not going to nag me about this?"

"No."

"Okay then. See ya."

And House walked out of the office, a bit dumbstruck by Wilson's casualness.

* * *

People had been giving her suspicious side-glances. Sometimes they stopped talking abruptly when she passed near them. She also knew about a bet on whether she and House were just a sex thing or were dating. Apparently some people even put money on them being secretly together (and even married!) for years now. There were rumours about them having had a relationship in college, some believed they had a secret child no one knew about. A few claimed not even House knew about the said child. It should revolt Cuddy that people from the HR, who were supposed to keep the workers' personal information confidential, practically didn't wait that House and Cuddy left the HR's office to start the gossips. Cuddy couldn't care less about any of this though. If all her hard work, all the weekends and vacation time she dedicated to her job, to this hospital, that more than her workplace was her baby, if all that was good for something was surely to hold her above any criticism about her professionalism and her ability to do her job. And to do it not just well, but exceedingly so. Plus, she couldn't deny that part of her thrived with the idea of challenging convention. Of being good enough to be able to take the chance and still prevail. That was why after all she liked to have House working for her. That was why she liked him as well. She did regret sometimes not practising as much medicine as she thought she would, when she decided to become a doctor. She enjoyed the power plays of hospital politics (only when she won, but she usually did). She liked being in charge, taking care of everything, having the power to make things better. But House was right: she did miss just being a doctor. And he made being a doctor so immensely exciting!... Dealing with him on a daily basis was backbreaking, but it allowed her to deal with the most excitingly approach to medicine. Keeping up with him was a constant challenge, rewarding in itself. So she smiled at these people who were surely talking about her just seconds ago and went on with her business. And right now the business she was going to deal with next was a much more troublesome one.

"You pulled my authorization!" House accused as soon as he walked in her office, without having knocked, of course. "Why?"

"Because there are better ways to test for the very same thing that are much safer-"

"Safer and slower! I'm all for taking it slow, when I'm in the mood," he gave her an _you know what I mean_ rise of eyebrows. She rolled her eyes, hiding amusement, "but it's hard to be in the mood, when my patient is DYING!"

"You figure yelling is the right way to make me change my mind?"

"Look, Cuddy, she really can't-"

"You're missing the point, House. There _are_ other, more effective, ways to change my mind…"

House couldn't feign his surprise. He gave her the most thrilling mischievous lopsided smile, but then turned suspicious.

"There's no way you'd let me convince you using _those_ ways…" She gave him a mischievous smile herself. "Which means that either you will trick me into giving you what you want, but not giving me what I want in the end-"

"Oh, I can give you what you want…"

He chuckled now.

"That's a bit presumptuous… to assume that I'd want anything from you other than letting me save my patient…"

"You don't?" She made such a fake-innocent smile that he thought he might die right there. No, there wasn't anything he'd want more right now than to sit her on her desk and slide himself inside her fiercely, repeatedly.

"...or… you don't need convincing, because you already know that you'll give me what I want… you just want _me_ to give you something _you_ want too… You little minx! You took my authorization on purpose just so that I came here and you could have your wicked ways with me through blackmail and extortion!" She kept smiling naughtily through his whole little speech.

"Oh, well, I suppose now that I was caught and you already have everything you want, I can't really go through with my evil plan anymore… you can go do your test-"

But he had already passed around her desk and was turning her chair to him with his cane, hooking it there, to grab her by the waist with his free hand, lifting her up to kiss her.

They kissed hungrily, furiously. He then trailed a path of kisses, sucks and little bites all the way from her chin to the place in her neck just below her ear. She was doing pretty much the same, only her bites were a bit more forceful. His hands were trying to get under her shirt which was tucked in her skirt when she interrupted him.

"We need to go to the bathroom."

Inside the bathroom they'd have two closed, and obviously locked, doors between them (and the sounds they'd make despite their only half-successful attempts to muffle them) and the rest of the hospital. They went and twenty minutes later House left her office with much more than he thought he wanted when he first walked in. Now, going back to his office, he was already craving for more.


	6. Diagnosing early dementia

**Chapter 6**

House, Wilson and Cuddy were having lunch together in the cafeteria. Nurse Previn had come to tell Cuddy something which made Cuddy finish her lunch faster and get up to leave.

"So I'll see you tonight?" she asked House in confirmation.

"Your place, 7 o'clock."

"Actually, could we make it eight? I've got some work to do that I don't think I can finish earlier."

"No problem. I'll just let myself in with my key."

"What do you mean your key? I didn't give you any key."

"Oh, right… I meant the key you _hide_ under the potted plant so that burglars and lover boys get in.

She rolled her eyes and said:

"You know you should have kept that information to yourself. Now I'm going to put my spare key somewhere else."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be somewhere really secret, like under the rug."

Rolling her eyes yet again, she left. Then Wilson said, with a sweet mocking smile on his face:

"It's so beautiful to witness the interaction of two people in the early days of their great love story. Always warms my heart."

"Shut up. You're just jealous 'cause I'm hiting _that_ , while you don't even want to have sex with your wife anymore."

"Hey! That's not… Julie is still very-"

"Very not Cuddy! You're not seriously going to compare them, are you?"

"You're an ass."

They were silent for the rest of the lunch. Afterwards they went to Wilson's office.

"Okay, spit it," House said suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean stop giving me that indifference crap and just go on with throwing all the reasons you believe my thing with Cuddy is a terrible, terrible idea."

"What for? So you can either ignore me or insult me?"

"Seriously? You're not going to nag me about how I should be seeking a _real_ relationship instead of-"

"So you can ironically ask me if by real relationship I mean a sinking marriage and we keep disagreeing until I ask you what's she like. I think I'd like to skip right to the part where I ask you what _is_ she like. She as good as she looks?" People, especially women, thought Wilson was a caring tender boy who only cared about meeting their needs, but when it came to women and sex he was really just like any other guy.

"Never kiss and tell." After a pause, House continued: "Oh, come on, you know you want to." Then he sighed and gave him a knowing glare. "Look, I've figured this little game of yours: you think that if you say nothing, I'll start dwelling on why you're so surprisingly okay with this which means I'll be thinking about this whole thing a lot more, which you figure will either make me realize it's a terrible idea and end it or, and being the secret Emma the matchmaker that you are, this is probably what you're hoping for..., you think it'll make me realize I want more from her than having a free-pass card to admire her breasts with my hands now."

"Wow, you have been thinking about this. Hmm… it's like you want me to nag you about it… Look, it's okay to be worried, House. She's your boss, you're doing the nasty with her, you should be questioning whether that's a good idea. It probably isn't. You'll probably end up screwing things up at work. But if I'm to be honest, and this is my piece of wise manly advice to you, if I were doing it with her, I'd keep doing it until I couldn't anymore. You know, if I wasn't married… Which brings us to my previous point: tell me she's not as good as I think she is…"

"Oh, Wilson… She's so much better… I knew she was great, but now she's just-"

"Wait, what do you mean you _knew_ she was great? You've slept with her before?" Wilson was incredulous. House looked like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment.

"Come on, Wilson, have you ever seen her?" Wilson still seemed a bit suspicious, but he accepted House's save.

"That good, huh?"

"Wilson, you have no idea…"

"Come on! Don't leave me hanging like this!"

"What? You don't think I'm gonna go into details, do you?"

"Not very _detailed_ details, but, you know, you can't sleep with Lisa Cuddy and not talk about it! It's not like she's your girlfriend anyway!"

"Not gonna happen, Jimmy. Use your imagination. Then dwell on the fact that she's a thousand times better than what your perverted little mind could possibly conceive."

"You're a cruel, selfish friend. What happened to bros before hoes?"

House simply grinned.

* * *

There was a quiet knock on the door before Wilson walked in her office. He sat on the chair in front of her desk but said nothing. She kept working until his silent presence started to annoy her.

"Do you need something or did you just came to watch me work?"

"I'm just… diagnosing."

"Diagnosing… me?"

"Looking for any signs of early dementia."

"I know this is about me and House, Wilson. So just get it over with so I can get back to work and you can have your conscience clean."

"My conscience clean?"

"Yes, by fulfilling your duty of reciting every reason why this is such a terrible idea."

"You think it's a terrible idea?"

"I am sure you think it's a terrible idea."

"Why would I think that?"

"You _don't_ think it's a terrible idea?"

"Of course it's a terrible idea! You think it's a terrible idea! Even House thinks it's a terrible idea!"

"Did he tell you something?"

"No. But it's such a terrible idea that even he must know how terrible it is, Cuddy." He sighed. "Look, I get why you're doing this-"

"You _get it_?"

"I do. You're lonely, you're both lonely. I'm guessing the first time was something unexpected, you both freaked out, tried to act like nothing had happened until one of you came up with this arrangement, because _why not?_ , right?"

"And why not?"

"You can't possibly be seriously asking that."

"It was good, we had fun. We're both single, why not do it again?" She shrugged. "House didn't tell you anything about how it first happened?"

"No, just that it started about a month ago."

Wilson was looking at her like he was expecting her to tell him everything. She looked away for a second, considering how much she should tell him and whether she should tell him anything at all. Her own doubts about the whole thing lead her to start talking.

"I had basically escaped from a boring date and was looking for some papers in my office and House came in and we started to drink... Well I already a bit tipsy from the wine I had at dinner-"

"You _escaped_ from a date and came looking for papers in your office?" Wilson asked somewhat increduously. One would think that looking for papers would be a mere excuse to _escape_ a date – a very lousy one, in fact – and that someone would not actually go look for papers after abandoning a date.

"I… It doesn't really matter. Then one thing lead to another, like you said, and that's it. Look, Wilson, there's nothing to worry about."

She decided not to talk further after all. Wilson quickly regretted having interrupted her. She now would not express her own fears and concerns. So he decided to call on all the causes for potential (or rather certain) disaster they should all be worrying about.

"He's you employee-"

"I'm not planning on giving him a raise any time soon. I really do need to get back to work, Wilson. I'm sure you do too."

She spoke in a manner that broke no argument. The conversation was over. Wilson was disappointed she hadn't continued to tell the story of how they got together in the first place. And concerned about the whole thing, and particularly that she was being so evasive.

"Look, I'm just worried someone is going to get hurt, Lisa."

"Why would that happened? It's not like anyone's in love with anybody."

"These things never end well. And House doesn't deal well with bad endings."

As he said this, he was standing up to leave.

"You're actually worried about this. You shouldn't. This has nothing to do with what happened between him and Stacy."

His only response before leaving was:

"He's my friend. Of course I'm worried."

* * *

When Cuddy arrived home later that evening, House was sitting on the living room floor. Sprawled around him were albums of pictures.

"What are you doing?"

"You were one sexy teenager!"

"I knew it, I knew I should have never let you come to my place! How long have you been snooping around?"

"Come on, what's the big deal? What am I going to find? Porn tapes? F-graded school tests you kept as a reminder of how you must not sleep in on Sunday?"

She had put a bag on the kitchen counter and went to the bathroom. After a while, she came back and said:

"I wasn't in the mood to cook, so I brought Chinese. I hope that's okay with you."

"As long as I eat it on top of you…"

"Never gonna happen. I'm not covering myself in duck grease and hot sauce."

"A guy can hope…" He showed her a picture. "How old were you in here? Twelve, thirteen?"

She sit down on the floor as well.

"Let me see. Twelve, I think. Yeah, I had just got in Middle school. God, I haven't looked at these pictures for ages!... Oh, my sister was still shorter than me in those! And that kid over there, he was such an annoying brat, he had a child crush on me… Mother loved him, she's always loved the ones I couldn't stand."

"He was definitely a smartass, look at that raised eyebrow!"

"Yeah, my dad couldn't stand him either, but mom kept inviting him to our place. His mother was our neighbour and she and mom got along really well. Mrs. Straw, my sister and I used to call her. She was so thin, she looked she would break every time she bended. I think she eventually resented my mother for not getting me to give her son a chance. My mother definitely resented me for it, she didn't even bother to hide it, just told me plain and simple I had pulled her apart from such a dear friend. I don't even think she liked her that much."

"Sweet twelve year old Lisa Cuddy, already breaking the hearts of mothers and sons!"

"Oh, you think I was sweet?" She touched his arm mockingly flirtatiously. He rolled his eyes, but chuckled a little.

"What about here? Were you sixteen, seventeen?"

"Sixteen, yeah. I threw that skirt to the garbage just before I turned seventeen. God, why do I even remember something so trivial as that?"

"Well, I'd remember a skirt like that…," he said lasciviously: it _was_ a short skirt. "Why would you throw it away?"

"Some idiot spilled raspberry juice on it, actually. A fat kid from the Science project I was in. What was his name?... Rob… Bob… I can't remember."

"Anything against fat kids?"

"What? Are _you_ suddenly the knight in shining armour of people you only saw on a twenty-year-old photograph?"

"Just trying to know if you used to tie fat dorky kids around a stick and peed on top of them."

"God, House! No, I was not a bully. Never called him fat in his face. Which is more than Mr. Edwards can say of you. In case you're wondering who Mr. Edwards is, it's that patient you had three months ago who weighted more two hundred pounds. Were _you_ a bully even then?"

"My dad usually didn't stay in the same place enough time for me to build the necessary network of sadistic friendships that would allowme to bully anyone."

"Were you ever _bullied_?"

House was taken aback by her sudden question. She was looking at him with a neutral expression though.

"I was too big to be bullied at school."

"Older kids?"

"Why are you asking all that? No, there were no older kids." _Is he being defensive?,_ she wondered. She let it go though.

"No reason. You ask me questions, I ask you questions," she answered with a shrug.

"Well then, were _you_ ever bullied?"

"No. Sure there was some mocking about being a Jew, being a part of the school's science project, no big deal. A stupid prank… normal stuff."

"A prank?"

"Like I said, no big deal. I don't even remember what it was about."

"There's no way would forget something like that. You refused the application of that guy from Josh Hopkins because of some old grudge you had against him about how he stole your idea for a college paper. And I can always tell when you're lying. You have a tell."

"How do you even know about John Farrow? And there's plenty of times I lie to you and you can't tell. You just don't know because… you couldn't tell."

"No, you can't lie. Not about personal things. You have a tell for those. You lie about something personal, it makes you feel like you're embarrassed of yourself, which causes you to have a physical reaction."

"What physical reaction?"

"I'm not going to tell you what your tell is. That'd just be stupid. So, this prank, what was it about?"

"Just some guy who bet he could get me to sleep with him. There was a deadline, I think. Apparently, high school kids thought I was an interesting challenge, the pretty Jewish girl who was top of her class."

"Well, did you… sleep with him?"

"No, I didn't… I found out about it before... you know, it got to that point."

"So you would have? If you hadn't found out about it?"

"I was just a silly junior girl… He was this handsome senior quarterback in the high school's team and he had been paying all this attention to me, inviting me to cool events and giving me flowers…"

"You fell in love with him."

"I might have… I thought I did, at least, yeah… It just never occurred to me that he could be fooling me around, much less that he was just doing it to win a bet…"

"How did you find out?"

"A friend of mine, Danny, that's him right there…," she grabbed a photo in which about a dozen, mostly hippie, high school kids were dancing in the middle of a park, pointing at a sixteen-year-old boy in bagged-hippie clothes, with unkempt hair and a messy appearance overall, who looked a bit too slovenly, shabby really, but he had an interesting face with light blue iris, circled by red pot-smoking whites, that stared rebelliously at the camera. In another picture, both he and Cuddy were poking their tongues out. "…he punched him. The next day, Frank, that was the bastard's name, came to school with this gigantic shiner in the eye and wouldn't say why or who did it, just that he needed to focus on the team and on his studies and I was distracting him, so we should just stop seeing each other… We had already kissed by that time…" She laughed bitterly. It still turned her stomach to think that he was her first real kiss. "That afternoon some of his friends were beating up Danny and Frank was trying to stop them. Everybody at the school was around them and when Frank saw me he just started to apologize… He thought I already knew, that Danny had told me… I was so embarrassed…"

House nodded. He imagined how a teenage Cuddy would have felt – betrayed, deceived, embarrassed – and he felt genuine compassion for her. This cruel episode gave him a little insight on why she might have such a hard time to let herself go with a man. Why she always holds so little expectations. It was a cruel lesson to learn at such a young age. He felt in that moment an irresistible desire to comfort her, to make all the pain she had felt go away, even if he was twenty years late.

He simply nodded, but that night his touch was particularly gentle.


	7. Either terribly or disastrously

**Chapter 7**

House was discussing a case with his team in the conference room. Not actually _discussing_ , it was more like a slaughterhouse of ideas where House hold a very brutal, insulting axe. He ended up telling them to make more tests while they waited for an antibiotic to show any effects. He was angry and bored. Cuddy was in a meeting so he couldn't try to convince her to have middle-of-the-day-sex in her office bathroom. There was only an off chance of success for such an attempt, but it had been proved possible before. He went to her empty office anyway and started to watch a soap opera in his portable TV, seated on the couch. It was almost lunch time when she arrived.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shh! Roberto is about to tell Sonia he doesn't love her anymore, because he fell in love with her sister!"

"Okay… Why are you doing that here? Notice that I don't even ask you why you're doing that during work hours… but doing your incredibly embarrassing hobbies inside your boss's office is taking work ethics down a whole dangerously new path!"

She was taking some papers from her suitcase and putting them in their places.

"Relax, you'll thank me later for coming. Pun intended. And something can only be embarrassing if the person doing it is embarrassed."

"Actually it is possible to be embarrassed on another person's behalf."

"No, it isn't. Except if you are embarrassed of how much you can't keep your hands off that person…"

"Oh, please! _I_ can't keep my hands off you? Then why are _you_ the one in my office?"

"Maybe I have work stuff to discuss."

"Anything new about your case?"

"Huh, no."

"Why are you really here, House?"

She then looked at the small table in front of the couch and saw that two plastic boxes were on top of it.

"You brought me lunch?"

"You only have thirty minutes before meeting that pharmacy guy. There's no way you go to the cafeteria, wait in line, have lunch and still have amazing sex with me in that amount of time. If I cut it down…"

"I still won't have sex with you."

She seated by his side on the couch though, grabbing the box containing a shrimp salad.

"I don't know if there's enough time for playing _hard to get_ first…"

She rolled her eyes, but still chuckled and started to eat. He put the TV on the table, without turning it off, and grabbed his own box. After a while, she said:

"Thank you for the lunch."

"I know you're kinda slow, but when I said you'd thank me later, I meant-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. This is the only thanks you'll get."

"When you're listening to some boring guy talking about the wonders of a brand new pill that is exactly the same as an old one but in a different color and more expensive, you'll regret not having taken advantage of this extremely handsome employee an hour before."

She laughed at his insistence, which was just for play now (mostly, there's always a little bit of hope). At the screen, some tall blond woman was being slapped by another tall blond woman. House explained.

"The one who's slapping is Sonia, she's one who got dumped because of her sister, Maria, who is trying to explain that she couldn't help her feelings for Mario."

"Intense."

"Yup."

 _"I'm sorry, Sonia, but I love him. I wish I didn't, but I can't help it."_

 _"It doesn't matter that you love him. He was mine! I would never do that to you!"_

Cuddy laughed.

" _He was mine!"_ Cuddy imitated. "Now I understand why you like this so much. It's like watching a National Geographic Channel show about apes. _Uh, uh, my banana, you away!_

"How do you know that I like wild animals shows?"

"I think you told me once about how you used to watch them for hours when you were a kid."

"Huh."

"Ohoh, this is better than a comedy show! Did she just curse her sister? Like, cast a spell on her?"

"Yeah, their mother taught her some voodoo stuff."

"Amazing. Wait, why do you watch the dubbed version? Don't you actually speak Spanish?"

"I watch both versions. I like to compare them. You can't imagine the mistakes they make."

She looked at him with disbelief and, honestly, contempt. But then there was a woman wearing peacock feathers in her head and she burst out laughing. In that moment, Wilson came in through the door.

"Someone's having a good time."

"Hi, Wilson," Cuddy said, starting to laugh more quietly, but not stopping altogether.

"Are you watching one of House's Philippine soap operas?"

"Mexican," House corrected, almost hurt.

"Did you ever tried it, Wilson? Just for a while? It's so funny!"

"That's because you're an evil sadist. People are having their lives wrecked here!"

She gave a short laugh and then turned more seriously to Wilson, who had not sat down.

"Did you need anything, Wilson?"

"I just wanted to check with you if everything is okay to start Sarah Miller on the special treatment?"

"You know the committee already gave the approval. Is she having second thoughts? Did she say anything?"

"No, no! I just…"

" _You_ are having second thoughts," Cuddy stated.

"No, no, of course not! I mean, I just… I have three new patients and I don't know if I'll be able to follow her treatment with the necessary attention…"

"What are you talking about? She's starting a new, painful treatment. You want her to change doctors?"

"Wait, is this the skin cancer middle-aged ex-model? The one whose dad used to make money out of her naked pictures? – House asked. – I told you. I told you she was in love with you!"

"What?" Cuddy looked at Wilson, who stood silent, looking guilty and embarassed. "You're not denying it. Okay, that's… complicated. Anyway, it's normal, sometimes patients see doctors like saviors and… things get mixed up…"

"He loves being the knight in shining armor of all the sick and needy."

"You'll have to deal with it, sorry." Cuddy declared.

"He's acting weird 'cause he likes her too."

House had stood up now.

"Shut up, House! Just because you don't understand that a _doctor_ might not like to see his patients in pain-"

"Oh, God, Wilson!" Cuddy interrupted, "You do _like_ her. Crap. Look, as I said, deal with it. She's not changing doctors, you'll keep it professional during treatment and by the time it ends, if she makes it, you'll have already realized this was just a moment of… confusion… during a time of hardship in your marriage."

"Right."

Wilson aimed to leave, but stopped abruptly and turned around.

"No, actually, how do you know that? How do you know that if we'd met on a grocery shop or at a bar we wouldn't like each other?"

"You're married, James."

"Maybe I won't be soon. Julie and I are considering divorce."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't know things were that bad…"

" _Wilson_ is considering a divorce. She cheated on him. He's been basically living at my place while he decides whether he forgives her or not. You know, Jimmy, you should be more understanding, considering-"

"You bastard! Why would you tell her that? What if I didn't want anyone to know about it?"

"If you wanted to keep it to yourself, you wouldn't have told anyone, you would have, you know, kept it to yourself."

"Right, because I couldn't possibly expect you, as my friend, to be quiet about something I told you… Of course, how naïve of me, we're not really friends, are we? I should have no expectations regarding you whatsoever!"

Wilson was practically yelling at House's face.

"Expectations are such a nuisance. You should know that by your third failed marriage. How can you expect any wife of yours to be faithful when you never were? And this thing with the dying ex-model, the only expectation I advise you to have is that she's either dying or-"

"You son of a bitch!" And with that, Wilson punched House in the face. He was going for another one, when Cuddy stood up as well, positioning herself between both men.

"Dr. Wilson! Do not do that again or you will get fired!"

Wilson stopped his movement and they were silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Cuddy. I… I understand if you have to-"

"Just take the rest of the day off. You're in no condition to see any patient. Come back to work tomorrow. You will start Ms. Turner on treatment and you will be completely professional about it. And, Wilson, this will not happen again."

"No, of course not. Again, I'm sorry. And thank you."

Wilson left.

"Mr. Burns is coming at any minute, you need to leave, House."

"You're not gonna take this personally, are you?"

Before she could answer, there was a call from her assistant announcing the pharmacy guy she was meeting.

"I'll talk to you later, House. You really need to leave now."

House left and Mr. Burns walked in.

* * *

"What happened to you?" Chase asked when House entered the conference room and he saw the bruise around House's right eye. Cameron and Foreman looked at the bruise too.

House ignored his question.

"What did the tests say?"

"They were all negative. We're back to square zero."

"We've crossed six potential illnesses, if you think that's being back to square zero, you've learned nothing at all from working here."

Chase blushed. It was then Cameron's turn to ask, concerned:

"What happened to you, House? It looks like… you were punched!"

"He probably deserved it," Foreman said.

"It's not what you think, my wife does not beat me up! My mistress, on the other hand…" He gave a nasty smile which looked weird on his swollen face and made both Cameron and Foreman roll their eyes. It also made it hurt like hell, which caused him to grimace immediately.

House told them to do their usual throwing of wrong ideas and eventually he decided to order them to start a treatment Chase proposed. House called him before he left with the others tough.

"Nice catch, the vitamin E insufficiency."

"Oh, man! This can't be good: you're complimenting me. And you can't be in a good mood with a nasty shiner like that on your face."

"Don't push it," House warned. "What are the poles?"

"The poles?"

"Dumb play dumb on me. The bet about me and Cuddy."

"There are tons of bets about you and Cuddy."

"Since I'm asking you, I clearly mean the one you organized."

Chase sighed resignedly.

"An increasing number of people are starting to doubt the whole thing so they put money on Cathy from HR having invented everything. That's actually how the whole thing started."

"Hmm."

"Most people bet on a strictly sex thing. Some put their money on a single one-night-stand that went wrong."

"I never _go wrong_."

"Good to know that. A very small minority bet you are dating. An even smaller minority, one person actually, completely went mad and threw their money away by betting on you two being _in love with each other_."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you that. I have to keep the confidentiality of the participants."

"Fine. You're fired."

"You didn't fire me because of Vogler, you won't fire me because of this."

"I think I just realized keeping you was a mistake."

"I won't tell you. It was only one person and he or she asked my absolute discretion about his or her identity."

"So we have a true-love shipper. Someone that knew I was going to ask _its_ identity… Interesting. What else?"

"Not much. There's a relatively popular bet amongst the nurses on Cuddy being in love with you. No reciprocation."

"And how will you know who wins?"

"The bet is open for another month. Then, I will offer Cuddy 25% of the money in exchange of the answer."

"Why not me?"

"Because you've been joking about having had sex with her for years. You have no credibility."

"Maybe I wasn't joking."

"See what I mean?"

"What if _she_ lies?"

"I suppose she'll have to get you to pretend to act accordingly. She'd only feel the need to lie if she _were_ dating you, so it's up to you whether you're ok with being her secret shame. Anyway I'll know if she's lying."

"Oh, will you?"

"Yes, she has a tell."

This took House by surprised.

"What tell?"

"I'm pretty sure you know. She did it when she talked about her mother on the little speech she gave to the burn unit kids on Mother's Day."

House nodded. He knew what Chase was talking about. After a moment he said:

"Okay. You can go. It's good to know your ethics allow you to snitch on your boss, but keep you from disclosing the identity of people who bet on other people's personal lives."

Chase left.

* * *

House left soon after Chase. He went to his apartment. Wilson was in the living room, putting clothes on a bag. After a moment in which they were both silent, House said, ignoring the fact that Wilson was clearly planning on not crashing at his apartment another night:

"You're not in love with your patient."

"I don't want to hear this."

"I know, but you have to. You're not in love with your patient. You're just hurt and angry. Trying to find an escape."

"Is that why you made me punch you? You think that proves I don't love her?"

"Yes, I do. You're always repressing your less pleasant emotions. You are incredibly patient in what regards taking other people's crap. You endure pretty much anything. I mean, you're friends with me…"

"Problem is, I don't think you've ever been my friend in turn."

"...but when you're really, really angry, you explode so easily, it's almost comical. You, with all your God-given patience, snap at the tinniest little thing resulting in either going to jail, or punching you best friend..."

"So I'm angry and hurt… That doesn't mean I'm not also-"

"Yes, it actually does. You can't be in love with someone and be so angry. And not just at Julie or even at yourself, but at life in general. So angry you snap at something that's not even an issue to you."

"You didn't know that."

"I know you and Cuddy talk about this kind of stuff. You're probably her only girlfriend."

"Are you trying to make me snap at you again?" Wilson asked, but in a light manner now. "You really got me to punch you to prove a point?"

"Not necessarily punch me, no. I was hoping really loud yelling would have done it…"

"Maybe you're right. I shouldn't feel like this… I'm just… I'm almost forty and I've already messed up three marriages… I mean, maybe… maybe that's not for me."

"Maybe it isn't."

"Thanks," Wilson answered sarcastically. Then after a moment:

"Thank you, House. You're a good friend. In a weird and apparently masochist way."

"You're welcome, Wilson. Wanna go grab a bear?"

"I do."

* * *

House and Wilson spent most of the night at a bar. Somewhere between glass of scotch number four or beer number five, Wilson decided he was going to give his marriage another shot. He resented his previous wives for not giving him a chance when he cheated on her, as if every single time throughout the years when he'd gave in to their needs and wishes counted for nothing. In the morning, he was determined to keep his decision. He would talk to Julie to move back in. In the beginning of the night House had tried to confirm that Wilson had been the one to bet on House and Cuddy being "in love with each other".

"I know it was you, Wilson. Just admit it."

"It wasn't me. Someone actually bet on you loving each other?"

"Don't act ignorant on me. I know you were trying some sort of game, you knew I'd know about the bet and you wanted to mess with me."

"I'm not acting anything!"

"So you're really telling me you didn't enter the bet?"

"I never said I didn't enter. Of course I did."

"And?"

"I put my money on you two dating."

"Why would you do that? You know we're not together like that."

"The betting pool only closes in a month. I have hope you find the guts to ask her out until then."

"You're hopeless."

* * *

The next day, Cuddy went to House's office to give him a new case. After losing the fight about taking it or not, House told his team to start testing. When Cuddy was about to leave, he said:

"So, will I see you tonight or are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad. I wish, as Dean of Medicine, I didn't have an employee who turned my best doctors into high school delinquents, but I'm not mad."

"Yes, you are. You're acting all cold about this. I'm getting to know better all about your passive-agressiveness."

"I'm not passive-aggressive. And I am not mad. I get why you act the way you do. Your friend is in trouble and it concerns you, but you don't know how to deal with it, so you react this way."

"What way?"

"By pretending you don't care and giving him even more crap."

"You've got me all figured out, huh?"

"Well, it's either that or you really don't care at all about the well being of your only friend. That's too scary for me to believe in."

"So… I act like a careless bastard, but I'm not actually a careless bastard… because you choose to believe that I'm not."

"Do you want me to think you are?"

"I don't want anything. I'm just trying to follow your logic. By the way, you're wrong."

"You _are_ a careless bastard?" She challenged, but he could hear the tiniest bit of disappointment on her voice.

"Pretty much all the time. At least that's what all the nurses say."

"What about this time? Do you not care at all about Wilson's mess?"

House deflected.

"Why do you care whether I care or not? Anyway, he's over his patient. Realized it was just the whole divorce thing hanging over his head, making him act crazy. Oh, and he's decided he's gonna give it another shot with Julie. I told him how stupid that was, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"Who knows? Maybe this whole drama will end up being good for them, make them figure out how to make it work better."

"No, it will end either terribly or disastrously."

"You don't know that. You're just a pessimist."

"Realistic. So… I'll see you tonight?"

"Alright. Seven? At my place. Is that ok?"


	8. Default response

**Hi, everyone! First of all, I'd like to thank all of you who have reviewed, favourited, followed or simply read the previous chapters of this story: hopefully it was and will continue to be worth your while. I don't know if the anonymous guest(s) who sometimes leaves a review is just one person or if I have more than one "guest reviewer", but I appreciate the comments and that you enjoy the dialog** **.**

 **For those who are impatient about the development of this story (dear calianabergman), I'll let you know that it is about to reach a critical point: this chapter paves the way for what comes next. So, consider yourselves warned. ;)**

 **The thing I love about writing a story that starts somewhere around season 1 is that by that time we only had the foundations of the characters, we were in the beginning of our journey to discover them, so it is possible to imagine so many outcomes for them, so many different background stories: it is truly wonderful. Hopefully, you'll enjoy my re-writing history.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Three weeks later, it was poker night at House's place. Wilson was there, having been warned by his wife that he'd either come home until 10 o'clock or he'd have to stay at House's for the night, because she was tired and was going to bed early, so she didn't want to be disturbed. This was somewhat unfair, since Wilson, even when he arrived rather drunk, was always considerate enough to make as little noise as possible. And especially considering what a major crime he had forgiven her: it was like his forgiving her was nothing more than him doing his duty. After three of four days in which she had been particularly nice, she was back being his annoying selfish self.

A man Wilson did not know was also by the poker table. Apparently he worked at the convenient store in House's street.

"And she said _I want the complaint book_ and I said _you can find them next to the kids' school stuff, I think it costs 1,50 dollars_. Ah! You should have seen her face! She really think I'd have a complaint book? Or that anyone from the government would care if I did?" the man said.

He was a suspicious fellow, with many tattoos on his arms, a moustache like they use in Texas, coming all the way down to the end of his jaw, with long straw-coloured hair. How this guy ended up selling shampoo and brooms in a convenient store is something Wilson couldn't quite muster. Just like he didn't understand why House had invited him. Well, House did seem amused by the guy's story: if Wilson didn't know any better he'd think House actually liked him.

"I get a lot of those too. Clients, patients… it doesn't matter, if someone thinks they work for you, they figure they ought to make your life a living hell!" House gave his own input.

"And here was I, thinking you were the one who made their lives hell… Call."

"The lives I saved, you mean? You see, Doug, a guy saves a man's life, but what do people focus on? That I had to break into his house to find out what kind of detergent-caused allergy he had! Raise. 100 bucks."

"You break into people's homes? Cool," Doug said, giving House a friendly pat on the shoulder. House flinched a bit, but the guy didn't seem to notice. Wilson saw and rolled his eyes at the idea of House hating this guy as much as him, but deciding he wanted to amuse himself in some strange way, probably because he knew it would annoy Wilson. "I fold."

"See, Wilson. This is how a real man plays, he's not too much afraid of looking like a coward to fold."

"People who win, like I will, don't fold when they have the better hand. All in."

"Oh my, Wilson! Tell me, Doug, what do you think? Think he's a coward or a real Texas bull?"

"Think he's not the kinda guy who'd put that much money if he didn't have something real good." Wilson rolled his eyes. That was all House needed.

"Coward it is. I call."

Wilson was, of course, bluffing. He was irritated to no end. He's already lost six hundred dollars and he couldn't stand Doug anymore.

"Oh, come on! Don't pout, Jimmy! You know, Doug," House turned to Doug and spoke in a conspiracy tone, covering his mouth with one hand, "I think my pal Jimmy here is jealous of you. Figures we're no longer best buddies now that I've found you.

"I'm sure that's not true. Just 'cause he's gay doen't mean he'd be that much of a girl."

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not gay!" Wilson was stunned with this guy's nerve.

"Come on, it's okay. House told me before you arrived, there's no need to have those kinds of secrets here. We're all good friends."

"It's not a secret, because it's not true. I'm not gay, he's just trying to mess with me."

"I might mess with you sometimes, but I wouldn't lie to Doug." House replied. Then he turned to his new pal again: "He's being shy, forget about it or he'll just act hurt the entire night."

"You know what, I'm gonna get another beer," Wilson said, getting up.

"Go, but don't get ahead of yourself. Cuddy's coming, so you can't stay the night here."

Wilson was already up, walking to the kitchen, but he stopped on his track.

"What do you mean Cuddy's coming over?"

"What do you mean what do I mean? Cuddy, also known as the scary evil witch with the smokin' hot bod is coming over. And not to play poker." He winked at Doug who smirked knowingly.

"You think she won't mind… all this beer and ashes… the smell all over the place?" Wilson wanted anything but to go back home now. He's never arrive before ten o'clock now, not that he wanted to spend the night home in the first place.

"She's less of a girl than you are. Well, except in the few parts that matter."

"Really? I've heard a rumour about how she used to be a man," Wilson intervened.

"Seriously? Your girl used to be a dude?" Doug asked, incredulous and a bit disgusted.

"It's all over the hospital, everybody talks about it," Wilson promptly said. He wasn't going to throw away this opportunity for a little revenge.

"Trust me, she's a woman. Always has been. Probably some old jealous doctor in the menopause created that rumour just to spite her."

"You sure? I've seen this show on TV… They do those transformations pretty good now. They can fool anybody. Well, there was this disgusting thing they have to do, you know, to keep the opening down there… you know, open… otherwise it would just close, because of the scar tissue… Disgusting stuff, man, be careful."

"Look at you, going all doctor on me!" House was trying to play it cool, but he wasn't enjoying the conversation. Wilson was enjoying his embarrassment thoroughly, although Doug's talk was disgusting him, even though he was a doctor.

At that moment, someone knocked on the door.

"Can you get that, Wilson? Since you're already up." House shot a look at his leg and Wilson rolled his eyes, but opened the door anyway. It was Cuddy. Wilson was a bit taken a back when he saw her, in tight jeans and wearing a simple low-cut top under a light jacket to keep her warm from the night's fresh air, even though it was almost summer.

"Hi, Wilson! I didn't expect to see you here."

"Hi, Cuddy. I'm as surprised as you are. Come on in, please."

Cuddy walked in, heading for the living room and taking in the chaos that had taken place there.

"I didn't know you had company today. I thought I was supposed to come tonight… Did I heard you wrong, was it supposed to be tomorrow?" She gave Doug an uncomfortable look, who had his back to her and only then truned his neck to see her.

"That a woman alright!"

"Excuse me?" she asked. Wilson covered his face with his hands. House had the decency to look disgusted himself. He was the one to speak next.

"Cuddy! Don't mind Doug, he has the weirdest metaphors for poker hands… And you're just on time, we were about to begin a new round."

"I didn't know we'd be playing poker."

"And now you do. Ain't life full of fun surprises?"

Cuddy took a moment to consider something. Then she said:

"Okay. So do I get a beer too or what?"

* * *

Wilson had left a little less than an hour after Cuddy arrived. If he wasn't going to spend the night, he should leave early. _Tell nurse Ginger I love her too_ , House had told him before he left. Wilson had been flirting with nurse Sarah, who had started working at the hospital last week – a sweet young redhead, with a nose a bit crooked and a chin too long, but overall pretty, in a discreet way. He had been thinking about her more often and in more intimate ways than he was allowed to admit, being married and all. On his way home, he felt a sense of misplacement, when he thought about the chastisement that would be expecting at home, suddenly realizing that "going home" had been something that he had not wanted to do in a very long time, also realizing he hadn't felt at home there as well for an equally great amount of time. He walked into a bar instead, just to get drunk. Perhaps that would give him the courage to go home or maybe… maybe knock on a certain nurse's door… After all she did tell him where she lived for a reason, didn't she? Or was she just making conversation?... Yeah, a few drinks might help solving that conundrum…

* * *

The next day, House and Wilson were at the latter's office.

"You're looking guilty."

"You're looking frustrated. Doug kept Cuddy for himself last night?"

"Yeah, that's very likely," House scoffed.

"Turns out she didn't like poker night so much?"

"Are you kidding me? Didn't you see her? I've never seen her so exhilarated: that is one sadistic woman, let her beat your ass in a game and she'll make sure-"

"What do you mean you let her beat you? You didn't seriously lose on purpose?"

"Sure I did. Increases the chance of epic-crazy-celebratory sex. And let-me-cheer-you-up sex. Turned out even better than I expected: she gave me double doses… of each!"

"And yet you're looking frustrated. You've been silently brooding there ever since you came into my office."

"Because I'm trying to figure out why would look so guilty. And secretive. You haven't said a word since I arrived."

"I do that a lot of times. You know, quietly hoping you'll go away and let me work if I don't enable you by talking to you."

"Ahah! But never after poker, wrestling or monster trucks night! You always wanna talk about exciting moves, crazy tackles or surprising bluffs the next day. Which means… something else happened last night… My first guess, would be wife screamed at you or cried or even kicked you out… But you'd have no problem talking about that… And you wouldn't look so guilty… Which means I'm not the only one who did the nasty last night!"

"I didn't. And I was not the reason you were there brooding. You didn't even look at me for ten minutes before starting to throw fake accusations at me."

"Is it red down there too? Or turns out she's a fake one? These days, you can never trust-"

"Now, why would you be brooding after such an epic night of incredible sex, according to you, after poker? This can only mean you _wanted_ Cuddy to get mad and you're disappointed that she didn't. Why did you want her to get mad?"

"That's ridiculous, do you ever hear yourself? I make her angry, I don't get sex. Why would I want that?"

"That's what I asked. And there's really only one possible answer: you're not satisfied with epic crazy sex-"

"Right, because that is so dissatisfying…"

"...because you want more! You want to shake things up. It was a good move by the way: she'd either get mad and you'd have that fight you're looking for in which you'd bully her into a relationship with you… or she'd join the game, you'd let her win and have sex with her and, more importantly, you'd have shared a common activity with her that does not involve you two being naked. A couple of weeks ago it was that soap opera session together, last week you invited her to lunch with us two times, now it's poker… You're trying to bond with her through non-sex-related ways!"

"I knew it! I knew you couldn't let this thing between me and Cuddy go! I'm surprised you managed to bottle up all that need of yours to turn things into something they're not for so long! The timing comes in handy, I must say, when you clearly are avoiding to confess your ugly, adultery sins."

"Fine, I went to Sarah's place…" House made a _who?_ face. "You know perfectly well who nurse Sarah is, House."

"Nurse Ginger? Oh, right, how could I forget her sweet pale face?"

"I knocked, she was surprised to see me and sent me away."

"After doing the nasty, I assume."

"Before. Nothing happened. I went home."

"If nothing had happened, you wouldn't look that guilty."

"Really? Because it isn't bad enough that I knocked on someone's door with the intent of cheating on my wife? I shouldn't feel guilty about that?"

"Maybe you are telling the truth. That's very catholic of you, you know? Being guilty for something that you didn't do, just because you wanted to. Especially considering Julie already did it."

"I didn't just want to do it… I actively tried it… It wasn't just a thought anymore, it was… Anyway, I came clean, will you admit you want a relationship with Cuddy?"

"I already have a-"

"You know what I mean. Look, House, I know you don't care about what I think-"

"You're right."

"...but I do think it's good that you're trying to get close to someone again. Cuddy's great… Possibly too great… I don't know if she is stupid enough to try something with a miserable bastard like you, but I'm glad you're trying at least."

"You know, women find me very charming!"

"I don't think insulting them is really charming, but-"

"Cameron would probably disagree with you… And Cuddy," House stopped mid-sentence and got a knowing look on his face. "I know what you're doing, you're trying to make me defensive, figured I'd try to prove you wrong, make you see that I can make Cuddy want something with me."

Wilson gave a small acknowledging smile.

"Just be careful, House. Remember Andrew? The guy appeared in the hospital every day for a whole month after she broke up with him… She had to call security to chase him away… He cried on my shoulder for an hour… And that guy she dated for a few weeks last year, that pediatrician she met at a conference in New York…"

"Blond guy with a black Porsche?"

"Yeah, that one. I saw him at another conference three months ago: he was still hurt because of how she ended things, he told me he had been already in love with her."

"Your point being…"

"Those rumors you created about her eating children alive for breakfast… you might not be very far from the truth… she may not eat children, but she does seem to burn men with her hot flames-"

"Quit the metaphors, Wilson, you're really bad at it," House said, sounding more annoyed than he would have liked to.

"She dates them, makes them fall for her and then dumps them."

"She's not going to break my heart, Wilson. You're delusional. And I'm not one of those boring neat inferior guys."

"I do hope you know what you're getting into."

House rolled his eyes at him and turned to leave.

* * *

Wilson saw Cuddy having lunch at the cafeteria. He approached her table.

"May I?"

"Sure."

He seated in front of her.

"I hear you won the poker game last night."

"I did. I'm pretty sure House let me though. So I'd be more willingly to… you know, _celebrate_."

"He wouldn't. He hates losing."

"He does. But maybe he didn't see it as a loss. I find it kinda flattering actually."

"But weren't you mad for telling you to come over without saying it was poker night? And for bringing _Doug_?"

"Huh, Doug. What a disgusting guy."

"So you were mad. Why did you take it so well?"

"What was I supposed to do? It's House, he pulls pretty worse stunts all the time at the hospital. Shame on me, I'm probably too used to it."

"No, no, no. Every time he screws up at the hospital you make his life miserable! You never avoid confrontation, why are you avoiding now?"

"Seriously, Wilson, what is this interrogation all about? I'm his boss at the hospital, I can't just let him burn patients or screw a bolt in their heads. This is different. It's a different environment."

"Hmm, I see."

"What, Wilson? What do you _see_? Do tell."

"Nothing, it's nothing. I'm just marveling on the fact that you do actually stand him. Any other woman would be pissed just by seeing how dirty his apartment was when she was supposed to come over. You actually bear pretty well his… peculiarities."

"It's his place, why would I care?"

"The fact that you could choke on all the smoke?"

"I'm no little princess, Wilson, I can take some smoke."

"You sure do… Anyway, did you hear about that drunk cardiologist at the NY General?"

They gossiped throughout the rest of the meal.

Their talk came back to Cuddy's mind when she was having dinner, alone, at home though. She'd played it cool before Wilson, and the previous night in front of House and his creepy friend, but it had actually pissed her off that House had invited such a man to be at his place knowing she was coming. She could have even liked having a poker night, although she wished she had been informed, but why would House bring that guy along? It was as if he _wanted_ her to get mad at him. Her response to any plans or ideas House might have that she didn't know about – but suspected no good could come from them – was, by default, doing the exact opposite of what he expected from her. So she had played it cool. After all, why on earth would she be having a strictly-sex relationship if not to avoid that kind of couple-ish fights? Again, her default attitude was acting indifferent. She wouldn't admit, not even to herself, how much his childish, unnerving, careless attitudes disappointed her sometimes. When Wilson had his brief crisis over that patient, she had been angry at House for acting so cruelly, even if she did think Wilson was being delusional and needed to snap out of it. Even if House was incapable or unwilling to give his friend the support he probably needed, couldn't he at least not be such an uncaring ass about it? A thought came across her mind when, the next day, he and Wilson were acting like good pals again, and especially after House told her she was wrong about this subject: maybe he had called Wilson on his crap so crudely on purpose, precisely to make him snap out of it. After all she had been somewhat rough on the oncologist too, although in her case out of obligation: she washis boss, a status that came before eventual friendship. She shook those thoughts away though: she should know better than to be this gullible. Why did she always expect the best from House? His words didn't actually mean what they meant, his actions always had some hidden, benevolent, purpose… _Enough of that, Lisa!_ But the memory of him kissing her, so softly, that night when she told the sad, embarrassing story of her "romance" with the senior quarterback in high school came to her mind. What did that mean? Was he trying to somehow comfort her? Was she so pathetic that even Greg House took pity on her?

Tired of thinking about all this, she finished her glass of wine and went to bed.


	9. Mending the past

**Chapter** **9**

House and Cuddy were at her bedroom, naked beneath the sheets, breathing heard.

"What was that?" Cuddy asked when she was finally able to talk.

"What?"

"It was weird, you calling me that…"

"Well, if those rumors about you being a man are true, then you should be used to it… but if that really bugs you, next time I'll scream _oh, Goddess, yes."_

She chuckled.

"You know that's not what I mean."

He looked like someone who was uncomfortably and embarrassingly dreading the censure to come, which was a strange sight to see, since he usually seemed to proudly enjoy making her angry, as long as he got what he wanted. She took pity on him.

"It's fine really. It's just strange, you haven't called me Lisa since college. Fifteen years ago… and for such a brief period of time, compared to all these years being House and Cuddy at the hospital…."

"Sixteen."

She gave him a questioning look.

"Sixteen years ago."

"Couldn't you have let me round it down a year? Just had to make me feel a little bit older, didn't you?" her tone was playful though.

That was not why he'd said that though. It was just that however brief they're time together at Michigan had been, it hadn't blurred among his other memories. He remembered it rather well. He knew accurately its place in time, just like he still remembered the dress she was wearing at that party and the words she'd screamed in bed. That night, he'd replayed it more times in his mind than he cared to admit. She was not one to easily forget.

He wanted to tell her this, to erase any trace of sadness or insecurity that he suspected was in her mind when she thought about getting older, sensing life dripping away through her fingers, even if her voice didn't let it show.

"You know, I was gonna call you."

She looked at him, confused.

"What?"

"After I left in the morning. I was gonna come see you. Figure out where things would go from there. That was the morning I got the call from the Dean and I was expelled from my first med school, and there didn't seem to be any point."

She was dumbstruck. But after a moment of not being able to think because of how surprised she was, she got an angry look on her face.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it's true. Thought you should know."

"Now? All this years later? And now… that we're having regular, casual sex?"

She scoffed and didn't continue for a moment. When he was about to say something back, she cut him and spoke again:

"Why on earth would you say that now? Do you have to ruin everything? Of course you do. You just can't enjoy something good, you have to complicate it… make a mess out of it."

Finally, he spoke, trying to rebuff the whole conversation, absolutely regretting having made that admission: "Just because I might have thought about having something more back then, doesn't mean I do now. I barely knew you, didn't know what a freak you are."

"That's just great. Now you think you can take it all back by insulting me. Don't you see what you have done? You brought this big _what if?_ to our thing! Our, until now!, fun, uncomplicated thing!"

"What's so big about it? There's tons of _what if's_. What if I had bought a drink to that hot blond woman in a red dress who couldn't take her eyes off me at a bar I went last year? What if five years ago I had slept with one of my patient's MILF who was so grateful I saved her son's life that started to undress herself in front of me? What if I had drunk a latte instead of a cappuccino this morning? It didn't happen. It doesn't matter."

"If it doesn't matter, then WHY did you say it?!"

"Why are you getting so worked up about this? Is it because you've spent so much time asking yourself _What if he had called?_ or _Why didn't he call?_ , while you cried yourself to sleep?"

"You're such an ass."

"Come on, I know I was the best laid you had ever had. You _have_ thought about it, otherwise we probably wouldn't even be here, considering you were the one who jumped me that night two months ago."

"Let me get this straight: you tell how _you_ wanted things to go further and now, suddenly, I'm the one who is having sex with you because… what? I've been mourning over you for the last sixteen years and figured this would be the best way to get you?"

"I don't know. Is that what you're doing?"

She laughed derisibly and left the bed, looking for her clothes and starting to get dressed. When she was almost finished, he got up too and took a last piece of clothing from her hand.

"Wait. Cuddy. There's no need to-"

"Give me my shirt back, House."

"Look, let's just forget about this."

"Right, but I need to… cool off. This whole thing is probably ruined. Anyway, right now, I can't just pretend you didn't say what you said."

"Why? Because you did want me to call you?"

"Just give me my shirt, House," she insisted, looking defiantly straight at him.

"What if we... I mean, it's been sixteen years… But we're both still here... we could still see where things could go…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't act like it's such a crazy idea. We already know we function – rather amazingly, I dare say – on the sex department, that's a serious advantage, and I don't dislike being around you as much as I thought I would… You can't seriously say have no feelings at all for me."

"Are you saying you have feelings for me?"

"I'm saying we could give it a shot. You can actually be pretty bearable, when you're not squealing over patients' right to privacy, and I'm not a guy that finds most people bearable."

"So… what you're saying is that we should try to be something more, start dating, whatever, because we already know we function between the sheets and you can actually _bear_ me? Are you settling for me, House?"

She seemed positively insulted.

"God, do you give such a hard time to every guy who tries to have a relationship with you?"

"Not so bearable anymore, huh?"

He chuckled at that.

"You're not the kind of woman a man just settles for, Cuddy," he added seriously. "Look, you want me to say it, fine. I like you. And I'd like to take you out to dinner tomorrow night if you're free."

She looked shocked. A second later flattered and then she appeared to be weighting her options until she finally had one of the two looks on her face she always got when she came to a decision after considering House's crazy idea to save a patient's life. One of them was the slightly wavering, guilty expression that accompanied the welcoming "do it". The other one was the resolute, "it's my final decision, so drop it" look. The latter appeared on her face. It was tempered by a sympathetic expression, certainly a little bit of guilt, but it was there. House knew what was coming next.

"You're sweet, House…"

"Here we go."

"This is certainly a surprise… But it's not what I was looking for. I hate to have to-"

"So it's really just sex to you? You don't feel anything at all?"

"Of course I do. You're funny, handsome, witty, sometimes you can be even charming… This thing we have _has_ made me feel closer to you, not just on a sexual level… I actually like being friends or at least… friendlier with you. But I don't want to date you."

"I know you weren't expecting this and, believe me, I know it's scary to start something new, but don't you think it's at least worth the shot?"

"I'm sorry, House."

And after a moment, she added, "I should go."

She took the shirt from his hand and put it on. She went to the living room and grabbed her shoes which were by the sofa and put them on too. She was almost at the door, when she heard him say:

"Never took you for such a coward, Cuddy."

She turned around.

"You're angry, I get it-"

"Don't patronize me!"

"I should have known better, that this whole situation would get out of control… You don't have feelings for me, House. You're just confused-"

"Again, stop patronizing me! If you don't feel anything back, just say it, don't deny _my_ feelings!"

"I did! I said it and apparently you didn't believe me!"

"No, actually you didn't say it. I asked you directly and you gave me some crap about how charming I am and how you like being friends with me."

"I wanted to make it as painless as these things can be. I was trying to be considerate toward your feelings or expectations or whatever it is you suddenly discovered you had for me."

"God, you're a bitch."

"Well, I guess that should make it easier for you to let this go."

"I guess it will."

And she left.

* * *

 **I did tell you to consider yourselves warned!**

 **Anyway, it isn't over. Actually, it is far from it. I have planned to divide this story in 4 parts. This is the first part and will have 14 chapters, which means that we are entering the last third of it. The others will probably be around that size as well. Each one represents a different stage in our protagonists' lives. Hopefully, I will be able to finish this endeavor and you will keep finding it enjoyable.**

 **This chapter was a tribute to "Known Unknowns".**

 **Have a wonderful week!**

 **Monsaraz**


	10. The bet

**Chapter 10**

House spent the entire night awake, replaying his fight with Cuddy in his head, the sex that had led to it, hearing his own voice call her _Lisa_ when he was about to come and looked down at her face and saw how beautiful she looked while he was entering her.

God, he was an idiot! Why would he ruin such a good, uncomplicated thing, just like she said? He couldn't have helped it though, in that moment he felt so close to her, so much he wanted to be even closer and calling her by her name, something he hadn't done in so long, came to him as an uncontrollable impulse. Could it be that she really didn't feel the same way about him? Truth be told, in the last three months they'd been having sex, she hadn't exactly showed any signs that she could want to have something more with him. Of course, that could be because she thought that _he_ didn't want anything of the sorts, but now it should be pretty clear to him that she didn't really want anything else.

House felt rejected and embarassed. Angry and hurt. Especially because he couldn't, despite everything, truely believe that she felt nothing for him. He couldn't help remebering the way she responded to him, to his touch… He thought about that first night they hooked up after she kissed him and they had fondled in her office and gotten inside his car completely oblivious to whether Chad – or Bob or whatever Cuddy's loser date name was – was still waiting for her or not. He remembered how she started round two, kissing his jaw and his chest. How she had asked herself when her orgasm was growing closer: _I don't know what it is about you…_ Was he just really good at sex? Or did she mean something else? He had been thinking about all this in those first few days after their encounter. He kept telling himself that she just caught him on a nostalgic mood: he had just been thinking about Stacy and how things ended, how he missed having someone… Surely it had all gotten mixed up in his head, he just needed to snap out of his wierd mood and get back to normal. But then she had come with her proposal to keep seeing each other and what else could he have answered? What guy would say no to such an offer from a woman like her? But he had secretly hoped from the beggining that things could evolve into something more. And for a while now – Wilson was right – he had been actively, albeit with very small and tentative steps, trying to get closer to her outside the bedroom. But he had to go and spill all the beans out suddenly... Maybe if he had waited longer… _What a pussy! Get over it!_ He took three vicodin pills, drank another glass of scotch and slept from 9am to 13am.

House only came to work the next day. He didn't want to show up looking as shitty as he looked the previous morning – besides his leg hurt like hell. It still did the next day and he still looked bad – he had drank quite a lot last night as well, though not as much – but he looked decent enough.

"What's up with you?" Foreman had asked.

"What's up with you? Have you been getting tanned?"

Foreman rolled his eyes. Cameron stayed behind after Chase and Foreman went to do some tests.

"Is everything okay? You don't look so good."

"You think just because you're pretty and Foreman isn't, I'll just spill all the drama in my life to you?"

"Well, you just admitted to have drama in your life, that's something already," she said with a sweet smile.

House rolled his eyes, annoyed, but he couldn't help being a little fond of sweet, caring Cameron, the opposite of what he'd gotten from a different woman in his life so recently.

"Did you fight with Cuddy?"

"I fight with Cuddy all the time."

"Yeah, but I mean, outside the hospital…?"

House had a realization.

"You're the one who did it!"

"Did what?" Cameron asked, confused.

"Bet that Cuddy and I were a thing that had pink hearts all over it and nasty rainbows."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. You're the one who bet that we're _in love with each other_. Of course, sweet little Cameron dreaming about her rude boss being caught up in a story of true, undying love! You're so naïve!

"So you don't love her? And she doesn't love you?"

"God, no! You can hate her a little less now. All that jealousy can be focused now on how she's been having her wicked, bossy ways with my body, leaving my secretly tender heart free as a bird for you to catch."

"I'm not jealous. And I don't hate her. And it's cruel that you say that last part when you know I have feelings for you and you couldn't care less about me."

Then, with a sad look, full of compassion, she said:

"I'm sorry for you… for you both… for not believing you can have more than this… arrangement, devoid of emotion… I hope you find some solace in it though… I really do."

She left. House stood by the whiteboard, not moving for a while. The he pushed it hard making it crash loudly against the floor and left.

* * *

Whilst House and Cameron's converstion ended, another one was about to happen in Cuddy's office.

She had slept terribly that night. She'd been repeating in her head everything that had happened earlier with House. Sometimes she would regret having freaked out and ran away so much that she almost started to get dressed to go to his place and tell him that she would like to have dinner with him and date him. Other times she would be completely conviced that a relationship between her and House would be doomed to fail from the start. She would regret probably having hurt him, then be angry at him for ruining what they had. _Why couldn't that be enough?_

Someone knocked on her door.

"Come in. Dr. Chase, what is it?"

"It's a… It's actually a sort of embarrassing subject, so I'll just jump to it. I'm the one who organized that bet, well, one of the bets, the bigger one… about you and House."

"Why on Earth would you admit that? Do you _want_ to get fired? And for me to make sure no one will ever employ you again. Not even blood banks!"

"Look, I know this sounds bad, but I'll give you 25% of all the money."

"So that I won't fire you?"

"If you tell me who wins."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"Look, what do you really have to lose? If you aren't in a relationship with House, just deny it-"

"I don't have to deny anything! My personal life, and Dr. House's personal life, aren't anyone's business."

"…but no one can blame you for wanting to make sure you and House have nothing to do with each other. You do have the right to defend yourself from slander. And you'll walk away with 14.000 dollars."

"14 grand, seriously? Did it really get this big?"

"It did. If you _are_ in a relationship with House, sooner or later you'll probably want to come out in public… and you can start your new life together with those same 14.000 dollars!"

"You should be a realter."

"If you actually love him, just say you don't and everyone will be happy anyway."

"Except for the nurses who think I'll get my heart broken. Or the person who bet we loved each other."

"You know all that."

"Of course I do."

"Well, I suppose you don't want to admit he already broke your heart, not that I think this is what happened, I'm speaking strictly in hypotheticals here, and I don't think you can attest that he loves you even if you're willing to admit it yourself."

"I'm not. $14.000 bucks, huh?"

"Yup."

"What's your cut?"

"15%."

"You get 5."

"You want 35%? That's like… 19.600 dollars!"

"Yup. I should leave you with nothing _and_ fire you."

"Fine. I must say I was actually pretty sure you'd do just that."

"Then why did you come talk to me anyway?"

"Bet organizer honor. I must give the people an answer, if they don't have a winner, the entire hospital goes down."

"I should be grateful to you then. You've been solely acting on the hospital's best interests the whole time," she said, mockingly. And after a moment of thought: "Okay, fine. Tell everyone we're... Tell everyone we're dating."

"Seriously?"

"Just do it. Now get out of my office or I still might fire you."

Chase didn't wait any longer. She called him as he was leaving though.

"Don't say anything, to anyone, until tomorrow."

"Okay."

By lunch time, the next day, Chase announced the winning pole and the entire hospital learned that the Dean of Medicine was dating her unruly Head of Diagnostics. Who, curiously enough, had both been absent from the hospital the entire day.


	11. Breakdown

**Chapter 11**

House hadn't gone to the hospital to work that day. After leaving work the previous afternoon following his conversation with Cameron, he had gone to a bar and stayed there until it was dark, only to go to another one after. And then another one. He came home in the morning, drunk and with a cut on his face he didn't remember how he got it. He slept through the rest of the morning and a big part of the afternoon. Then he got a phone call.

"What?" was his grunted hello to the caller.

"I just wanted to congratulate you. And myself! You just made me win a real nice pile of greenies!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I admit I've been a bit worried these last few days, and today you were missing… But I get it now. You didn't want to face the crowd. You'll have to eventually, both of you."

"Again, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You're with Cuddy, right?"

"Why would I? Isn't she at the hospital?"

"No… I… I figured you'd be together… Considering, you know…"

"No, I don't know. Is this one of your games where you try to make us be a _real couple_? I'm in no mood, so bye."

"Wait! House! So, you and Cuddy, you're not dating?"

"What on Earth gave the idea that we were?"

"The bet. It's over. Chase announced the winners. It's whoever bet on you two dating."

"He lied."

"But why would he do that? Everyone will know… He said he was gonna ask Cuddy herself, which I thought was committing career suicide… Anyway, you really aren't with her? And you're not dating?"

"No and no. Bye, Wilson."

"Wait, are you okay? You sound-"

But House had already hung up.

 _Fuck me_ , he thought. He agreed with Wilson, why would Chase lie just to have everyone at his neck when he and Cuddy denied it all. But if he did talk to her… Could she just be messing with him? What would she gain from this? It had to be Chase who was planning something stupid. But what? And why didn't she go to the hospital today? It was all too much for House to understand. He considered still being on the effects of alcohol and some drugs he might have used the night before. But he had pretty much puked his stomach out and he had already taken a shower and slept for a few hours. He decided to get up and go to her place.

* * *

After her talk with Chase, Cuddy had freaked out. _What have I done? What have I done?_ She considered going after Chase and tell him to forget all about it, say they were not dating, fire him if she had to. But she felt embarrassed for having to admit to have lied about this like a silly high school girl.

When Chase was presenting her options, she felt a dreading sense of definitiveness. It was like a now or never kind of challenge. She also felt guilty for hurting House, especially considering that she did like him. She liked him a lot. And it scared her. She was so good at playing cool and indifferent around him, all the while flirting and even having sex with him, but in reality she felt like a completely confused mess. She had proposed to have sex with him again after that first night months ago exactly to prove herself that it had meant nothing more than great sex. Doing it again would prove the insignificance of that first night of passion, prove that there was nothing more. But didn't the fact that she needed that kind of proof show precisely that it _had_ meant something? Damn, she'd been a mess from the start. When he proposed to take things a step further she couldn't help but run. She felt terribly guilty about it afterwards. She took the challenge that presented itself before her as an opportunity to make up to her previous hesitation and denial. It would be this sort of big romantic gesture, where she showed House she actually wanted so much to be with him that she was willing to come out in the public right away. Immediately after Chase left she realized the trouble she had gotten herself into. _What if he doesn't even want this anymore?_ And the thought that not only she had pushed him for good, but that she had to come clean about her lie turned her stomach around.

She left the hospital and went to a bar. After a few illuminative drinks, she decided the best course of action would be to talk to House before he heard anything from anyone else. She had gone therefore to his place. It was already dark, around nine pm. He wasn't home, so she decided to wait inside her car. She fell asleep around eleven and woke up about an hour later. She rang on the bell, but there was no response. There was no light coming from within his apartment. She rang again: if she'd have to wake him up to prevent disaster to happen the next day, screw it, she would. But still no response.

 _Fuck me_ , she thought.

She got back to the car and started to drive. She didn't want to go home, she was completely awake and slightly panicking. She kept driving until she realized she had left Princeton. She kept driving. Suddenly, she found herself in Asbury Park. It was a long time since she walked on the beach at night. She took off her shoes and just walked. The wind was cold that night. It felt good though, she had always liked May. There was absolutely no one around. She thought that would made her feel lonely, but it was actually comforting. Screw people. Screw their bets and their judgmental looks and their fake caring faces. House at least said his mind. _Screw him too._ She spotted some lights coming from a building still a little far away. It was probably a bar. She headed towards it. She spent the next couple of hours drinking and flirting with the bartender who was also the owner of the place, trying to get her mind off the recent mishappenings. It was a nice place. Tom, that was the owner's name, was closing up, but he told her she could stay. After his two employees were gone, they were the only ones there. He wanted to show her a cocktail he was working on. He didn't dare selling it, but she could try it if she wanted. She did and it was good.

"Thank you. That was really good."

"You're welcome. Are you just being polite?"

"Are you just being modest?"

"Hmm, you do seem like a woman who always speaks her mind."

"Actually, I have to swoon so much people into doing what I want so many times, I'm the master of polite fake flattery. But that drink was good though."

"Swoon?"

"Yeah, I'm a swooner. Is that even a word?, she laughed.

"I don't know. I suppose I swoon customers all the time too. I guess it's part of every job. As long as you can swoon, of course."

"Well, you're a really good swooner."

"I am, huh? But I could never swoon as prettily as you."

They were very close now. He closed the gap between them and kissed her. She kissed him back. They made out for a while.

"I live two miles from here. Would you like to come with me?" he asked in a low voice, near her ear.

She opened her eyes and looked at his face. He was quite handsome. He was surely in his mid-thirties, had light brown hair and a light brown stubble. He had blue-grayish eyes and a straight nose. Alcohol was simultaneously numbing her senses and propelling her to action. She went with him.

* * *

House knocked on her door, but no one answered. It was about four pm. He knocked again, still nothing. He turned to leave, but then thought better and reached for the key under the potted plant and opened the door. The place was quiet, but he could sense that someone was inside. He pushed the door of her bedroom and saw her sprawled across the bed, sleeping with her belly against the mattress. She hadn't even opened the bedspread: she was lying on top of it, in her work clothes from the previous day. He came closer. She had her face sideways and he could see the blur of makeup and dry tears. _Fuck._ _What the hell happened?_

Unbidden, he touched her arm and rubbed it very lightly. She stirred. When she opened her eyes, she looked confused, surprised, distressed.

"House?"

"Hey."

"What… what are you doing here?"

She was scrubbing her unhidden eye with her left hand.

"What happened to you? Are you okay?"

His hand was still on her arm and he was sitting on her bed now. She tried to sit up and even though she swayed a bit, he helped her steady herself and she found her balance. Her head pounded, she hadn't even taken some aspirins when she arrived home a few hours ago. She looked at him, at the concern in his eyes, in his whole face, and she felt like crying. She hugged him.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He was holding her in his arms, rubbing her back.

"What for? Because of the bet?"

She disentangled herself from him.

"You already know about that? Of course you do. I… I'm sorry about that too. I had no right. I don't know what's going on with me, I just keep doing really stupid things lately."

"I don't care about that right now. You didn't answer. Are you okay? Did anything happen?"

"No, no… I mean, I'm fine… Wait, why are you here?"

"I came to kill you for ruining my reputation in the hospital. Now everybody knows how low my standards are, you know, dating the ruler of the whole place and all."

She chuckled, before she turned serious.

"But we're not dating."

"Yet you said we were. Why?"

"I'm sorry. It was an impulse move. I just… I wanted to prove something… to you… I don't know exactly what now…"

"You kind of are at my mercy now. I can deny it all and make everyone realize just how much of a lunatic you are…"

Slight panic and a lot of shame appeared on her features.

"Or… I can play along…"

She shook her head.

"No, you have no idea… I almost had sex with this bartender at Asbury Park… Yes, I drove to the beach… Anyway, I went with him to his place and we were… making out… and then I just started to cry, like, non-stop… I must have been so pathetic he didn't even let me go away, afraid that I might get hurt or something… So he let me stay there… I couldn't even sleep for long, it was basically morning anyway… When I woke up I just ran the hell out of there and drove home. I _am_ a lunatic."

He had been listening to her rambling with a serious look on his face and had winced a bit when she had so abruptly said that she almost had sex with someone else. After she finished talking, he spoke only after a few seconds, when he had recovered his coolness.

"You're not a lunatic. You had a minor breakdown. It's a normal reaction: the prospect of dating Greg House would do that to anyone. In fact, you'd show seriously low levels of sanity if you _hadn't_ freaked out in some way."

She chuckled again and tears did fall from her eyes.

"You really are something else."

"Is that bad?"

Tears kept falling and she couldn't talk to give him an answer. So she just shook her head. _No_. He brushed one of her stained cheeks with a thumb and closed the gap between them and kissed her lips, softly. Then they hugged again and stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, until he said:

"Come on. You need to take a shower and change clothes. You'll sleep better then."

But after taking a shower and putting her home clothes she didn't want to sleep anymore. They simply stayed in the living room, seated on the couch, talking, laughing, making out. She was the one who took things to the next level and they had to go to the bedroom. They stayed there afterwards, even while they had dinner, which they ordered. He stayed the night. They would wake each other up occasionally in the middle of the night, with kisses on the neck or groping hands. They spent the night like that, alternating between sleep and sex.

The next morning there was no point in going in to work together, since he had to go to his place to take a shower and change clothes and she needed to enter early. But they did have lunch together. People were watching, trying to get some sort of definite proof, maybe to get their money back. At some point she put her hand on top of his and he rubbed it with his thumb. Some people saw it. They also saw him kiss her goodbye on the lips. Word travelled fast, as always, and by the end of the day no one at the hospital had doubts anymore: Lisa Cuddy and Gregory House were dating.


	12. Is the arrow pointing at me?

**Chapter 12**

"It's true? You and Cuddy are dating?" Foreman asked.

"Ask Chase, he's the one with all the answers… Except for this patient with really big masses on the kidneys, but then again, neither do you."

"Well, I would actually be happy for you if I weren't so concerned about my job. When she comes to her senses and not only breaks up with you but also fires you, we'll be going too."

"Then you've got all the incentives to act as the perfect boyfriend."

"Excuse me?"

"Not the kissing and groping part, silly. I'm not so much of an altruist that I'd be willing to share a woman like that if I could have her all for myself."

"Never mind whether she wants to be shared or not," Cameron intervened.

"You'll just be doing the boring parts. Giving flowers bearing cards with my name on it every now and then. Bringing a cup of coffee with a little note saying how she brightens my day. Stuff like that. I believe the four of us can be the best boyfriend that ever existed… Before you say anything, Cameron, bear in mind that you're the key in all this: a boyfriend with _your_ levels of feminine caring sweetness... I'm telling you, the best ever!"

Cameron rolled her eyes. Chase smirked and so did Foreman.

"But if you are dating her, why would you deny it the other day?"

"I didn't deny dating her. I remembered quite clearly your question was about feelings, not relationship status."

"What then? You're dating her but you don't like her? And she doesn't like you?"

"I remember the feelings you mentioned were a little stronger than that."

"You can't even say the word out loud? Loooove."

"Oh, let him be. They just got together. Or at least just came out in public, of course they're not ready for that word yet," Chase said.

"My shining blond-haired knight!"

Cameron was thankful for House's ironic comment, because after Chase's reprimand she had actually felt a bit bad for mocking House about this. Truth was that no matter how she had meant what she'd said two days ago to House, the news of his dating situation had hurt her: she was still very much in love with her boss. And she was pissed that House had not deigned to tell her the truth about his relationship with Cuddy just to come clean before the whole hospital two days later. Yes, he didn't owe her answers or anything really… but in a way didn't he? Don't decent people avoid playing with other people's hearts, especially when they know they have feelings for them? Of course House was far from being considered decent… But she had witnessed how far his sense of honour, of rightness, could go… Why did he dismiss her so?

They all turned their attention to the case at hand. Cameron lost to Chase and Foreman the rock-paper-scissors game that got her to be the one dealing with the patient's faeces. _When will life get fucking better?,_ she asked herself, while walking to the lab carrying a box containing the bowel product of a 73 year-old man.

* * *

After his talk on the phone with House, Wilson had been concerned. The next day, he couldn't go to the hospital in the morning because he had a meeting with a researcher in the Princeton University. He was surprised to hear about House and Cuddy close interactions at lunch that day when he finally came to the hospital to check on a couple of patients in the afternoon. He asked House what had that been all about and House confessed that yes, he was dating Cuddy: he had just wanted to end his phone call the previous day to return his attention to her. He knew Wilson wouldn't shut up if he had told him anything then. Wilson was still a little suspicious: House sounded pretty bad on the phone. But he seemed happy now, so what did he know?

Two weeks later, Wilson invited House and Cuddy to come have dinner at his place.

"Will Julie be there?" House asked.

"Of course. It was actually her idea to invite you."

"What? You can't stand to be with each other anymore so you add people to your miserable domestic environment?"

"House!" Cuddy protested. She actually didn't want to go either, she wanted House to cook her that tortilla he'd claimed to make better than the Spanish themselves.

"What? It'll be boring and depressing. I'll much rather _you_ invite me to your place. I'll do full service: cook the entire dinner and even get you some _dessert_ afterwards."

"Come on, I'm right here!" Now it was Wilson's turn to protest. "Besides, if you cook so well, why do you keep eating my food? You stole my lunch yesterday!"

"You don't put out. Maybe that's the reason all your marriages-"

"Not _all_ my marriages: I'm still married, remember?"

"Come on, House, let's just do this. They're inviting us."

"Will you put out afterwards?"

"Ass."

"Yours is bigger."

"Child."

"I can't believe we're doing this. Oh God, I'm going on a _double date_."

"Why is it so bad? Am I that embarrassing?"

"With that ass of yours?"

"You're the one who should be embarrassed. I'm not the one who obsesses about it so much. You've got a problem."

He shook his head _no_. "I'd have a problem if I wasted any of my positive obsessive energy on other women's inferior asses."

"You're such a romantic," Cuddy said ironically, but she smiled.

"Ok, you both have a problem. Just be there, eight o'clock, my place."

On that note, Wilson left.

* * *

Dinner had been going for a while now. Rather awkwardly.

"So… how did you two meet?"

"We work together at the hospital, you know that, Julie." House answered.

"So to speak," Cuddy said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, actually, you work _for_ me… So, we don't really work _together_."

Cuddy was finding dinner completely depressing like House had said: Julie and Wilson simply didn't know how to act around each other anymore. Anyone could tell they were trying so hard to keep things together, but it just felt like a fake parade. They were already at bottle of wine number two and they still couldn't be comfortable. So she took the opportunity to find her way into a comfort zone: nothing like she and House bugging each other to lighten the mood and find some normality.

"See, Julie, she just loves emasculating me… Truth is, she's just a frustrated administrator who envies the fact that I get to be a real doctor, while she sits on her desk filling paper work about missing toilet paper."

"Real doctor? By playing video games and watching soap operas during the entire day and solving a case once a week?"

"Cases no one else could solve, whether they worked on them a week or a year: I think you've got yourself a good deal when you hired me."

"Maybe I just hired you because of your pretty eyes and a cute smile."

"You think I have a cute smile?"

He gave her his cocky smile. She blushed a bit.

"It was a matter of speech."

"Oh no, I think someone has the hots for me! Look at that, Julie, isn't that the look of woman who's got the hots for a guy?"

"Well, you're her boyfriend, of course she likes you."

"Hear that, _honey_? Julie thinks you like me."

Cuddy sneered at him, he sneered back. They both smiled afterwards.

"Anyway, we actually met at college," Cuddy said. "I was only in my freshman year and he was already in med school, so we didn't really know each other very well…"

"But did you two hang out?"

"We went to the same party once. He was expelled from school the day after."

"Really? Why?"

"I cheated on a test."

"Why would you do that? Aren't you always bragging about being a genius?"

"Yeah, it's something geniuses do. You wouldn't get it."

Julie made a funny disgusted face and Cuddy, who was about to say something to House, probably some kind of insult, had to keep herself from laughing.

"So nothing happened between you and him at college?" Julie was only addressing Cuddy now.

"Sure. I got pregnant and had his kid, who was raised by my mother."

"Seriously?"

"No, I was kidding, I wouldn't do that to any kid. I know how hard it is to be raised by her."

Julie was still wearing such a terrified expression that Cuddy either took pity on her or simply couldn't keep a straight face any longer.

"No, relax! I was joking about the whole thing."

"Oh, you almost had me for a moment. I remember I had a pretty big scare in college. I was dating a guy and we were careless and I really thought I could be pregnant. The bastard bailed on me as soon as I told him. I can't believe I thought he loved me."

"Why would you nag the guy before taking the damn test?"

"But you weren't pregnant, right?" Cuddy said, mostly to distract Julie from House's remark, which she clearly had not taken well.

"No, but I broke up with him, of course. It's at those moments that you see if what a guy says about loving you is real or not. Clearly, that one was just talk."

"Some people react poorly to stuff like that, doesn't mean what they feel isn't real." It was Wilson who spoke.

"What? You think I shouldn't have broken up with him?"

"No, it's not… I was speaking in general terms… I mean, sometimes a guy – or a woman, for that matter – does something stupid… impulsive... That doesn't mean they'll persist on that… stupid course of action."

Julie seemed both embarrassed and angry that he'd basically bring her affair up.

"I actually believe people can change," Cuddy said. "They just can't change enough to stop being who they are. If a guy's a bailor, maybe he'll keep himself from bailing sometimes, but he'll end up bailing on you. If he's got an obsessive nature, maybe he'll stop being obsessed about that thing he's been obsessing about for a long time, but he'll end up finding something else to obsess about. It's up to us to either accept them as they are or not."

"Either accept it or dump them?" Julie somewhat artlessly summed up.

"I'm an optimistic. I think the little changes matter. If a guy used to bail on the big things, like pregnancy, and now only bails on stuff like putting the garbage out, that makes a difference. If he used to obsess about another woman and now obsesses about a TV show or a wrestling videogame, that makes a difference. But yeah, if what you can't stand is the fact that he obsesses over things, then you can wait a lifetime, he won't change who he is. People just tell themselves these lies about their partners, about their relationships, they keep themselves from seeing what they know it's there… It's like… For instance, people always try to convince themselves that their partners love them as much as they love them. Even when they are in a relationship where everything points in the opposite direction. Or the other way around: they keep telling themselves that they love their partners as much as they are loved by them when they simply don't."

"Do you think that in every relationship there is always someone who loves the other one more?" Julie asked.

"Not in every relationship. It's a lottery. Sometimes, the lottery might hit both the same way. But love is something that... comes from within, it's not like in movies where it seems like love has this… this life of its own, striking people in an equal and absolute measure. It's individual: how many of you have never been in love with someone who couldn't care less about you? We love who we love, as much as we can love them, and we can only hope that we're lucky enough that the person we love loves us back, even if not as much as we do."

There was a moment of silent after she finished talking, as if everyone was taking in what she said. She was a bit more than tipsy by now and not even she had completely followed what she had said. House wasn't so drunk and had listened intently. Wilson, who was drunker than Cuddy, broke the silence. "Well, I disagree. If it isn't about sharing a connection, something that's not just about me loving you and you loving me, but rather us loving each other, then what the hell is it all about?"

"You can feel connected to a woman. Doesn't mean she'll feel connected to you."

"So what? If we were to make a drawing, when two people actually feel that connection for each other, we'd have two arrows, each one starting at one person and pointing at the other, rather than a single arrow with two little triangles at each tip?"

"You know everyone is wasted when people are talking about drawing little triangles and arrows while discussing love" House said.

Everyone laughed.

The rest of the dinner actually went well. They talked sports, movies, the usual.

* * *

Later, House took Cuddy to her place in his car. After they arrived, he started to undress himself in the bedroom while she went to the bathroom. Things had been going rather smoothly between them in this new phase of their relationship, probably because they'd already been spending so much time together for the last three months. She came out wearing only her bra and panties and seated by his side on the bed. They started kissing and touching each other. Things got hot quickly.

"That feels good…"

"This?"

"Yeah…"

"What about this?"

"Hmm, yeah, that too… Oh, Greg…"

"I like when you call me that… when it's only the two of us… Like it's a secret…"

"A secret?"

"Yeah, like… Ahh, fuck, Cuddy!… Like it's something special for when we're like this… Ahh!"

"It's just your name… Oh… Hmm... There's nothing special about it."

"And here I thought Greg was… such a special name. Oh... yes, like that!

"This?"

"Yeah… God, Lisa!"

So she kept doing it. When they were finished, she laid partly on top of him, caressing his chest and sometimes kissing his collarbone, while he rubbed her back and right arm.

"Do you think we should start to call each other by our first names all the time now?"

"Do you?"

"I don't know. I'm asking because maybe that's why you brought this up."

"I meant what I said. When you use so rarely it gets more powerful."

"More powerful?"

"Yeah, like a secret weapon."

She looked up at him, steadying herself on her elbows.

"Do you get extra excited when I call you Greg during sex?"

"I think I do, yeah. Don't you? When I call you Lisa?"

"I feel closer to you, like you're reaching a part of me that's usually out of reach. Which doesn't even make much sense since I've always been Lisa to all my boyfriends."

"I don't care about your boyfriends. It's special to us. We've been House and Cuddy for so long…" Both afraid to cross a border, to climb a wall that kept them from each other, despite being together every day. _It was special_ , she thought. "It's good to know that I can now say Lisa without freaking you out, but I'm also used to call you Cuddy so…"

"Hmm… It would be quite nice if we could avoid all the _oh!_ looks people give you in the early phases of a work relationship that becomes a… more personal one in front of everyone's curious eyes… constantly searching for new indicators of that change, new material to gossip around, until it just gets old and boring."

"Always so practical."

"Don't tell me you can stand those stares!"

"Are you kidding me? Everyone turning into Cameron? One of those is hard enough to stand as it is!"

He was thoughtful for a moment and then said, as if he'd suddenly had a very important realization:

"Yeah, this is nice. House and Cuddy to the outside world, Greg and Lisa between the sheets!"

She laughed.

"You should be making slogans for movies ads!"

"We'd make a great movie couple. It would have the pretty girl, annoying boss, dirty mistress… all in one character! And, of course, the mysterious genius who lost his leg while he was trying to save his wife during a hurricane."

"His wife?"

"Don't worry, she died anyway, that's why he's so bitter."

"Hmm, you seem to be quite the tortured hero!"

"You know Hollywood, they need to make the audience feel compassionate for the misunderstood jerk right from the beginning. An infarction makes for such a less appealing story."

"I see. So who'd play me at this movie?"

"Crap. Is that a trick question?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I choose an actress you don't like or that isn't pretty enough…"

"Just pick a pretty one then. I know who could play you… you know, a slightly younger version of you."

"Oh, this should be good, you already implied I'm old, I'm thrilled to hear what's next."

"Tom Hiddleston. I absolutely adore him!"

" _Slightly_ younger? That guy is practically a teenager! Wait, does that mean you _adore_ me too?"

"Hell, no! You can only adore deities and celebrities."

"Hey, I'm a world-famous doctor…"

"Not good enough, sorry."

She laughed and kissed his lips. With her arms on his chest she asked him again:

"So, who'd play me? Feel free to choose a young one and all!"

"Oh, I bet you'd like that. I was thinking more like Helen Mirren or Jane Fonda…"

"Asshole. They actually look pretty good for their age."

"They sure do. Of course, when you have to add "for their age" after saying how good a woman looks…"

She slapped his arm playfully.

"You monster! So what's my expiration date? Forty? Thirty-nine?"

"What makes you think you aren't already past it?"

"You son of a bitch! You are so dead!"

She jokingly attempted to smother him with her pillow. He took it away from his face and they struggled giddily for a while, then he completely overpowered her and turned her over so she was laying on her back and he was on top of her.

"I seriously can't think of any actress I could possibly want more than I want you right now."

She was breathing fast because of their struggling, but the air caught itself for a moment in her throat.

"You say that because none of them is here."

He shook his head left and right.

"You must be crazy if you think I'd let anyone else in this bedroom and see you come like you did just now. It's my handiwork, I'm the only one who gets to watch."

A playful smile was threatening to show on his lips, but there was a seriousness to his voice. There was certainly a possessive shade to his words. She couldn't think straight when he looked at her like he was doing now, almost solemnly, with those big deep blue eyes of his. Why did he have to look at her like the sight of her completely baffled him?

They spent that entire weekend, much like the one before, in bed.

* * *

The next Friday Cuddy collected her money from Chase. She waited for House in her home that night. She welcomed him dressed in a long gray satin robe. She gave him a short kiss on the mouth and headed for the bedroom, urging him to follow her with a lascivious smile. He didn't need to be invited again.

"You know, dating you might be just the best deal I've ever gotten into," she said when they were both in the bedroom and while she removed his jacket.

"Oh, yeah?"

"A very, very good deal."

She gave three steps away from him and took her robe off. Suddenly she was wrapped inside a curvaceous opened basque with multiple stripes and hanging in her black panties were black lacy flashes. Pinned all around her were $100 bills. House laughed.

"Oh, I see. And here I thought it was just my hot body you were after. Come to think about it, I might actually feel less used now."

She had taken his shirt while he spoke.

"You do have a nice body. So tall and… such strong arms…" she ran her hands through his biceps "...and your stubble… Have I told you how much your stubble turns me on?" She was now kissing his neck and jaw and rubbing her face there like a cat.

She stopped suddenly however and stepped back. He gave her a shocked disappointed look. He was already getting hard and needing her.

"This isn't about your body though. This is about you making me come without touching any of the bills."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. They're mine. You can't touch them."

He laughed at her possessive childish statement.

"What about sharing? But seriously, Cuddy, they're everywhere! I won't be able to touch your breats, your thighs, your ass, your _cachucha_! You'll be begging me to take them off you!"

"My what?"

"Mexican word for cunt."

"Mexican?"

"Yeah, they say _coño_ in Spain. And _toto_ or _chocho_. Or _conejo_ , which is beyond my understanding."

"Why? Does it mean anything else?"

"Yup. Rabbit."

She was laughing out loud.

"Because they're hairy?"

"Maybe. Don't Spanish women have mustaches?"

"No idea. You know these steriotypes better than I do. Besides, you're not gonna make me forget about the rules with your little display of knowledge about foreign words for pussy."

"Of course not. Such a good little administrator never forgets about her rules."

"Exactly. But I haven't told you all of them."

"More rules?"

"Yes. I'm afraid you'll like this one. I will take one bill off of me and give it to you each time you make me feel… I don't know, _something_ … that takes me out of mind and actually makes me think you could be worth 100 bucks."

"I do like that. I'm gonna get so rich…"

"Quite confident, aren't we?"

He was running a single finger up her right leg. She shivered when he went from the stocking to the skin of her upper thigh.

"I have to admit, you are cunning! Giving a man direct monetary incentive to pleasure you… What about when I take all your money? How do you plan on keeping a guy then?"

His finger had passed near two bills near her hip, but he had avoided them with dexterity and was now contouring her waist. More shivers.

"Are you cold? You seem to be shivering." He added with a cocky knowing smile.

She ignored his last sentence. "I make more than you every month. I think you've got yourself a pretty good deal in the long run."

Cuddy realized what she was saying only after the words came out. It was so early in their relationship to be even thinking about the long term. And she was overtly – albeit involuntarily – bringing it up like a bomb drop. _Way to freak any guy out!_

But House smiled lightly. "Most people would agree that you're a keeper."

"And you?" She tried to sound playful, but her voice betrayed her and sounded a little too expectant. Possibly defensive. Maybe he'd attribute it to the chills his finger kept giving her.

"Let's see…" He had removed his finger from her waist and now the thumb of his other hand was rubbing her collarbone. "You've made your case: you make the big bucks. Question is…" He paused and moved her hair behind her shoulder to have free access to the side of her neck, where he started to plant small kisses "…can a guy feel like he's a real man despite your big bucks hanging over his role as main, if not sole, provider of mead and bread?"

"Hmm…" She rubbed his erection with her hand. "You seem like a real enough man to me…"

He smiled against her jaw and then they were kissing. His left hand stayed on her neck and the other one grabbed her face. After some time, one of her hands left his shoulder and reached her breast. He stopped to look at what she was doing and saw that she was holding a bill in her hand.

"Told ya. Just one? What about all those shivers my single finger gave you? It almost made you confess your never-ending love for me."

"The rules clearly mentioned nothing about "almost"."

"Stringent."

"Always."

Ten minutes later, there were no more bills attached to her lingerie. In fact, there was no more lingerie attached to her body.


	13. Jagger the philosopher

**Hello, dear friends!**

 **I just want to wish a merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it or simply enjoys the season (I, myself, am not a Christian, but I find this holiday particularly special: it's about family and sharing, which hopefully are something we can all have in our lives).**

 **The next chapter will be the last of the first part of this story. Such ending will be satisfying enough for this first part to be a surviving story on its own: I'm a firm believer that, despite the possibility of some loose ends or even cliffhangers, an ending (even if only of a part of a bigger story) must give the said story some degree of inner coherence. I find it terrible and nerve-racking when there's nothing we can get from a movie or a book other than anxious questions because we couldn't make sense out of anything.**

 **I have already written the skeleton of the first five or so chapters of part two, but I will probably take a break after posting the next chapter before I start posting part two. That is because my writing process goes like this: I write the skeleton of most chapters of a story in order to get a pretty good idea of the big picture and then I start releasing them one by one after revising and rearranging them individually (sometimes to a great extent) - yes, I am a sucker for detail: I hope that pays off in the reading. Maybe if I had more free time I could release them more as they come, but then you would risk having five chapters in a day and none for five months...**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one.**

 **Have a nice weekend!**

 **Monsaraz**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

House and Cuddy had been dating for more than a month and they still hadn't gone on a real date. Not counting dinner with Wilson and Julie, who had agreed to get a divorce in the previous week. Perhaps it was because they were already having sex regularly: they didn't need to go through all the early phases of a new romantic relationship, having jumped the one in which going to bed together after dinner wasn't a sure thing, but a merely hopeful prospect. Be that as it may, the complete lack of change in their relationship since things had turned serious concerned them both, albeit secretly.

After getting Cuddy to agree on one if his extremely risky treatments, House stood up from the chair in front of her office desk and started to walk toward the exit. He stopped before grabbing the door knob and turned half around.

"You never actually accepted my offer."

Cuddy was already reading papers regarding other hospital issue and she didn't look up from them.

"I just said yes-"

"To have dinner with me."

Now she stopped reading her papers and lifted her head.

"Oh… I would love to. When?"

"Today, unless you plan on having dinner with budgetary paperwork again. I could get you at your place at seven thirty."

"Okay. Where will we go?"

"A gentleman never tells where he'll take his date to dinner."

"Says who?"

"It's part of the charm. I know what you really want to know is if you're supposed to dress up. Relax, I'm sure even Burger King accepts one of your Channel dresses."

" …"

"I took Cameron to a French damn restaurant, you think I'm gonna take you to Bob's ribs? It's a nice place."

"I actually love Bob's ribs… Damn, I haven't gone then for ages! Maybe we should go there sometime… Not tonight, obviously."

"Actually, tonight-"

"Oh, no! Tonight is high-class restaurant night. Bob can wait. Tonight I'll have several expensive and absurdly small courses and penguin-like dressed waiters pouring me wine…"

"And here was I thinking you belonged to an improved, cheaper female version of the species."

She chuckled.

"I'll see you later."

* * *

House knocked at Cuddy's door two minutes before 8:30. He was wearing suit pants and jacket, over Cuddy's favorite blue shirt, but no tie. They had talked on the phone one hour earlier and Cuddy had urged him not to wear one: he looked weird when he was too put together and tonight was a date night, not a business one. She opened the door and told him he looked very handsome. He extended a hand holding a bouquet of salmon roses with a shy awkwardness.

"Thank you. They're beautiful."

She put the flowers in a jar with water and went to grab her purse in her bedroom. When she came out of it, House suddenly realized he hadn't said a word since she opened the door.

"You look amazing, Cuddy."

She really did. She was wearing a simple tight black dress with the slightest sparkling effect.

"Thank you," she said, without being able to keep herself from blushing a bit. He noticed this of course and felt shy himself.

Then he wrinkled his nose. "I don't know if I should share the sight of you with a bunch of pricks in fancy restaurants."

"Possessive. Nice."

"I'm just concerned about the women that are also gonna be there. How will they manage to keep the attention of the guys they went with if they all keep staring at you?"

She smiled openly and kissed him on the cheek.

"Oh darling, if I were to feel guilty every time that happens, I could never leave home."

He laughed.

* * *

They had been having dinner for a while and were at their second course: seared scallops for her and lamb with mushroom pure for him. She had asked him about the places he lived in when he was a kid and he had told her about Egypt and Japan, including about the Buraku from whom he'd gotten the desire to become a doctor.

"But that doesn't really explain it though. The fact that this Buraku was a doctor was just a coincidence… If he was a… janitor in a rocket science facility or in a Law firm and he was the one who came up with the right answers when no one else would, they would still have to listen to him. They would still need him. It's not about being a doctor."

"It was to me."

"You wanted to… honor him?"

"I don't know. Perhaps a little. But there is a difference between being a doctor and anything else. You said it yourself, remember, when I asked you why you were so afraid of making a mistake: we make life and death decisions. And nothing matters more than that. So when he was needed, when he told them what to do, he had someone's life in his hands."

His choice of becoming a doctor had been made with such ease and certainty, but he could understand that it was hard to fathom. It was surely hard to explain. _Will she now think it's just about having such a power?_

She looked at him thoughfully before replying. "You usually seem so wrapped up in the puzzle, people don't realize how much that weights on you… to be the one whom people expect to come up with the right answer and save the patient."

They looked at each other for a few seconds.

"What about you? Why did you want to become a doctor?"

"Oh, nothing so original. My dad's a cardiac surgeon and I've admired what he did since I was a little kid. My dream was to treat people and save lives like he did."

"So you were daddy's girl?"

"Me and my sister, we were both daddy's girls."

"So no favorites. And on the motherly side?"

"We never really got along well, unlike Julia and her: my sister became her little confidant practically since she started to talk. I'd much rather go watch dad work than go to a girl's get-together with mom's friends. Julia was the best thing that ever happened to me, freeing me from being mom's companion in that sort of gathering."

"Why don't you get along?"

"It's how our personalities go, I guess. My mother's very… blunt in pointing out people's flaws and I think I kind of deviated out of her radar over the years."

"So your tact for charming every kind of creepy donors comes from your dad?"

"Probably, he's the diplomatic one, yeah. But she's got her own way of charming people. She's very beautiful and… imposing, almost… regal. She walks in a room full of people and everyone's attention moves to her."

"How does that feel? To walk in and see everyone hold their breaths because you arrive?"

"You should ask her."

"I'm asking you. You have the same effect. I walk in and people immediately look at the cane and see the limp. Most of them try to look away as fast as they can. Some stare though, usually children and old people. I'd like to know how the opposite feels like."

"It wasn't always like that for you."

"Before, I would be a regular looking guy walking in a room."

"You are so _not_ a regular looking guy. Women drool over your big blue eyes."

"True, but they don't have such an immediate effect. Your turn now."

"No, you asked me how it felt. You just described what people did when you walked in, not what you feel about it."

"Is that so hard to guess? I feel like kicking the compassion and curiosity out of them with my cane. I guess I should be used to it by now."

"It's normal to be self-conscious about that. Everyone would. I am. Not about a limp, of course. I used to like all the fuzz when I walked in a party or a dinner… It makes you feel powerful, not just to know, but to actually see the effect you have on people just by showing up. But then… Time goes by and…"

"You're not already counting wrinkles, are you? You look as amazing as ever. Better than in your twenties actually."

"What was wrong with me in my twenties?"

"Nothing, I-"

"Relax, I'm messing with you. And thanks. But what I meant was… You walk in and dazzle people and know that many of them are thinking how they wished they could be you right then and there, and of course it makes you feel a little guilty-"

"Makes _you_ feel guilty."

"Right… But it also feels good, damn triumphantly, you can't help it. But gradually you grasp the fact that everyone in the room eventually realizes what you already know: that all sparkle you have is completely worthless, just good for show. And you can practically hear people gossiping that for all your apparatus, the truth is that you're almost forty and you're still the single cousin who lives for her job."

"You're not just good for show. I mean, the show _is_ really good…" Cuddy laughed appreciatively and he smiled.

"Thank you. You're being awfully nice to me. Tone it down or I'll get suspicious…"

"Well, I do want you to put out at the end of the night… Ups, probably shouldn't have said that, especially on a first date."

"God, I can't believe this actually is our first date!"

"I know, right? It's like we've know each other for years!"

They laughed.

* * *

After dinner they walked around the town center. It was a lovely weather and Cuddy had missed going for a night walk with a boyfriend she really liked, but was simultaneously concerned about his leg and hesitant between asking if it was okay to keep walking or saying nothing because she knew he'd take such a question badly out of wounded pride.

"I'm fine, Cuddy."

She looked at him questioningly.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could hear the wheels in your head spinning. _Is his leg alright? Is it hurting and he just keeps walking for my sake_? Trust me, if I wanted to stop walking I would."

"Such a gentleman."

"You don't like gentle," he said with a lopsided smirk.

"Pig."

"You did want to have a little pig as a pet. How did you say you wanted to call it? Carrots? Oak nut?"

"Chestnut. And that was when I was a kid. How do you even know that?"

"You had a stuffed pig in your dorm back in college. I mocked you for being the kind of girl who kept stuffed animals on her bed beyond twelve and you shrugged and said the only thing I cared about was if you were the kind of girl who had sex with complete strangers at parties. We weren't actually _complete strangers_."

"Right, we knew each other so well after seeing each other two or three times in the previous couple of weeks..." she replied ironically. "But I remember now: you actually asked me about it again after having sex. You said… What was it? Something like: _no girl who screamed like I did could possibly be the kind of girl who kept stuffed animals_. And I told you my dad gave it to me when I was a kid after I'd asked for a real one. But you can never just let things go, can you?, so you said... you said that explained how I got it, not why I had taken it with me to college. Wait… did you actually say you were my pig pet?"

"Well… I growl, I lick, I kick. – And he growled as if to prove his point. And then licked her cheek."

"Stop! You _are_ an animal! Besides, pigs squeal, don't growl. And don't you dare kick me, you've proven your point already!"

He laughed and asked afterwards:

"Do you still have the stuffed pig?"

"The moving company I contracted to carry my stuff to my current home lost the box the piggy was in. You wouldn't believe the tears I shed over it."

"Why did you like it so much? I'm sure you had plenty other stuffed animals. Was it just that your dad had given it to you?""

"Mostly, yeah. He gave me that instead of the real pig I wanted when I was seven and when he saw that I was disappointed he told me this one was better because I could take it anywhere with me and it would last forever."

"Until it didn't."

"Yeah, well, I learned a valuable lesson from it, so it served me better than most stuffed animals."

"That even inanimate pets run away from you?"

"No, that even if I couldn't get what I wanted, it didn't mean I couldn't get something better."

House nodded. In agreement? As an acknowledgement of her optimistic nature? She wasn't sure. They were sitting now by a fountain. She tilted her face toward his and he kissed her lips.


	14. The gaping chasm in between

**Chapter 14**

Saturday morning. Cuddy was jogging. House had slept in his place even though last night was Friday, because he'd wanted time for himself. Maybe spend the evening playing the piano or simply watching TV (wrestling, perhaps porn, who knows?).

"Hey, Alfredo. You done already?"

"Ah, no, not yet. I finish tomorrow."

"Mexico playing Argentina on TV?"

"No, no. My asthma is very bad."

"For six years, Alfedro. You can't lie to me. I'm throwing a dinner."

"First thing tomorrow."

"Party's tonight. It'll rain. I'm going to have to put buckets on the dining room table."

"No clouds, no rain."

"I'll tell you what. You take off. But if it pours into my guest's wine glasses…"

"Okay. Okay, señora, I'll do it. No hay problema."

Cuddy was already inside when she heard a scream and a loud noise.

* * *

"Judging by how it looks, he could lose his hand."

"How does falling off your roof do that to a guy's fingers?" Wilson asked, incredulous.

"Could have tweaked a vertebrae in his neck. Could have pinged on the ulnar…" House stops, staring down at a red stain on Cuddy's tank top just below her breasts. "Sorry, trouble concentrating. That tank top really absorbs moisture."

Cuddy reached to pull her sweater closer around her.

"Could have pinged the ulnar nerve, cut the blood flow. Or it could be disseminated intravascular coagulation."

"DIC? Guy falls off a roof, the first thought is it's always a clotting problem," Wilson intervened.

"Trauma can activate the clotting enzymes. Guy could loose more than his hand."

"Thank you, very much. This guy's been working for me for a long time and I-"

"Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?"

Cuddy stared at him.

* * *

House entered in his office.

Cervical MRI, work up for DIC, and start him on a heparin drip.

"Who?" Cameron asked.

"You want to know his name? I'm sure it's in the file."

Cuddy enters.

"Or you could ask her. She's his oldest, bestest friend. They were in Cub Scouts together."

"I'll get started on the blood tests," Cuddy said.

"You haven't been a real doctor in ten years, you'll make a mess all over the sheet."

"I'll do it," Foreman said.

"I still know how to handle a patient."

"Go, Foreman," House ordered in a final tone while looking straight at Cuddy's eyes. _Back off, Cuddy_ , his gaze said.

* * *

The team, Cuddy and House were in his office.

"We've got a third finger turning dark," Chase said.

"His PTT is prolonged, the fibrin split products are off, he's not clotting properly. It looks like a mild case of DIC," now it was Cameron's turn to speak.

"Well, obviously not that mild. This keeps up and his hand will literally be dead meat. His hand is connected to his arm, his arm is connected to…I'm not sure, but I bet it's important."

"All this from falling off my roof…"

"Yeah, if only he'd fallen on his head. Then he wouldn't have any of these symptoms."

Cuddy looks at him in disbelief. So does Cameron. Then the former spoke with conviction: "We need something stronger than heparin. Human activated protein C."

House acted disbelievingly. "Looks like Cuddy, same cleavage. Protein C is indicated only for severe sepsis."

"Well, how many of his limbs have to be at stake, for it to be severe?" Cuddy retorted.

"But this stuff is crazy dangerous. It can cause internal bleeding. If he bleeds, he could stroke, he could die."

"He could get better."

"You know, if I tried a scheme like this, you'd give me that nasty, wrinkly face and screech like a hyena," House approached Cuddy until he is barely a foot away. "It's very sexy, I admit."

Cuddy is speechless a second before she starts to walk away.

"Do it," she said.

* * *

House and Wilson stepped out of the elevator and the latter said:

"Protein C is border-line irresponsible. 'Cept that the safe stuff isn't doing squat."

"This is exactly the type of thing you would do."

"Well, obviously."

"You were just jerking Cuddy around?"

"You seriously thought I wanted to stop her?"

"Why are you being such a jerk to her?" Before House started to answer, Wilson quickly added, "Even more of a jerk than usually?"

House did not answer, but only a moment later Wilson made a face of realization.

"You didn't want her to be the one to make these decisions. To protect her. In case it goes wrong."

"Yeah, that sounds like me."

* * *

Alfredo stopped being able to move his arm. Chase was updating Cuddy.

"Protein C's side effects we were worried about? They happened."

"Where was the bleed?" Cuddy asked.

"His brain. It's causing right side paralysis. I've stopped the treatment. And called a neurosurgeon."

* * *

"His fingers are even darker, his temperature is 102 and spiking, and the x-ray now shows lung infiltrates" Cameron said, while Cuddy studied an x-ray.

House wrote _lung infiltrates_ across the white board.

"The good news is he won't be bitching about losing his hand if he can't breathe."

"The trauma from the fall could cause actuate respiratory distress syndrome," Cuddy said.

House rolled his eyes.

"Right, I forgot. Your roof."

"It would cause lung infiltrates and maybe fever and conceivably the cyanotic fingers," Cuddy insisted.

"The only question is why?" House asked out of the blue.

"Why what?" Cameron asked.

"Why her weird psychopathology requires a diagnosis formed entirely by personal guilt. Let's assume we've been wrong up until now. Let's assume, just for one second, that the earth doesn't revolve around Cuddy's roof. What if he was sick before he had his run-in with gravity? He just didn't notice anything."

"Well, pneumonia can cause DIC, which can cause cyanotic fingers," Foreman tried.

"Pneumonia doesn't hit that fast," Chase replied.

"Sure, only pavement hits that fast. It's not pneumonia. Might have missed a finger turning dark, he's not going to miss breathing problems. What else?"

"It's pneumonia," Cuddy said, looking at the x-ray. "He wanted to go home. I thought he was lying. I told him I had a dinner party. I made him go up there."

"Well, why didn't you just take out a gun and shoot him?" House asked.

"I thought it was just asthma."

"Might have mentioned this earlier, Doctor. Maybe we could have sent some blood cultures to the lab, instead of wasting a day indulging your self-loathing."

"If it's just garden-variety bacterial pneumonia, he's gonna be fine," Cameron said.

"So give him garden-variety Levaquin and a garden-variety echo-cardiogram. And go check out the kid's house."

Cuddy objected: "the blood work will show us which type of pneumonia it is, if-"

"If he's huffing nail polish, or pulling the wings off his pet parrot, this way will be faster. I bet Julio is just dying to find out what's wrong with him." He nods at Cameron. "Go with her."

Cuddy tried to protest again: "It's Alfredo. And I can handle getting a key and-"

"Rico and I no longer trust you deciding what's important and what's not."

Cuddy stares a moment, then leaves. Cameron shakes her head and follows her.

Foreman looked at House disapprovingly.

"You ever think about writing a book on office politics?"

"On _office_ politics? He's in a god damned relationship with her!" Chase exclaimed.

"She's a masochist," Foreman concluded in agreement.

* * *

In Alfredo's home, Cuddy opened a hall closet.

"No furniture polish, no paint thinner, nor anything else worth sniffing."

"Nothing in here, either," Cameron responds, calling from another room. "Except a few cockroaches."

Cameron looked up and said ironically:

"Someone should fix Alfredo's roof."

But she changed subject abruptly:

"So… have you liked House all these years? Is that why you never fired him? Not even when Vogler gave you that ultimatum?"

Cuddy simply looks up from the fridge she was examining.

"I mean, it's just, you guys are always screaming at each other and I figured you hated him… But then you started dating…"

Cuddy responded quickly:

"I never hated him."

"Why not?"

Cuddy simply looked at her again.

"I mean, he's a great doctor, but any other hospital administrator would have fired him years ago. And I agree that he's charming, I did asked him out on a date…" She laughed uncomfortably. "But he's also so… And today, he's been… horrible to you."

"Eight hospital administrators did fire him. And I've been horrible to myself. Blaming myself… Getting too involved… I think you and me are actually a lot like each other in that way, Cameron."

"But you're the one who's with him."

"We're a lot different in many other ways."

* * *

House ran into an excited Cuddy and Cameron in the hospital's hallway.

"Patient's lung function is declining rapidly. Levaquin's not working. He obviously doesn't have garden-variety pneumonia," Cuddy said.

"I'm glad you learned to take his impending death in stride."

"Guess what he does have," she retorted.

Cameron answered herself. "Rats."

House nodded.

"Scars on his hand…"

"Rat bites," Cameron confirmed.

"But he says they're from construction work so he won't have to admit he's got rats in the home. Catholics are right. Pride will kill you."

"He has Streptobacillosis," Cuddy said.

"Rat bite fever," Cameron completed.

"Boogy, oggy, oogy," was House's response.

"It fits the symptoms perfectly," Cuddy said.

"It's certainly one possibility. What about the aspergillus fungus we found under the sink?"

Cuddy picks up the x-ray.

"What sink?" She asked.

House dumped a tissue in the garbage.

"You ought to clean your bathroom better."

"You went to my house?"

"Isn't that exactly why I have a key?"

"You used my spare key."

"Potato, potato. You know I know where it is."

Cameron looked down. Cuddy looked at the x-ray.

"Damn. You're right. The focal consolidation makes fungal pneumonia far more likely."

"You're right I'm right. On the bright side, it has the advantage of keeping you totally responsible."

Cuddy looked at him with such desolate, sorrowful eyes that House regretted his harshness.

Cameron was the one who talked next:

"The treatment for aspergillus is amphotericin. That's hugely dangerous."

House nodded and said:

"Going the dangerous and aggressive route didn't work last time. It's bound to work this time. Start him on the amphotericin."

* * *

House was sitting on a chair in an exam room, his feet propped up on the exam table. He was twirling his cane and watching his mini-TV. There's a knock.

"With a patient."

The door opened. It's Wilson.

"Not according to the log."

"It's three-fifteen."

"Is it a commercial? Forget it. How's Cuddy doing?"

"She's not acting like Cuddy. It's a pleasure."

"Right, 'cause you hate how she acts, like… when she's having sex with you."

"Dude, what the hell!"

Wilson sighed.

"You know her. She has trouble with these situations, feels personally responsible."

"Technical term is narcissism. You can't believe everything is your fault unless you also believe you're all-powerful."

"Wow, doesn't she sound messed up," Wilson says sarcastically.

"I don't believe I can fix everything. I don't lie awake at night tormented by that fact."

"No, you lie awake tormented by-"

"We were talking about Cuddy here."

House started to get up.

"She cares."

"She enjoys feeling guilty."

"She cares. It's why she drives you nuts. 'Cause it's not just a puzzle to her. The patients are actually real, their feelings actually relevant. She can't even talk to him. And no matter how much you mock her for it, how much you joke about it, you like that about her."

"Shut up, Wilson."

He sighed again.

"I'm just saying take it easy on her. At least for your own self-preservation."

* * *

Turns out, House wasn't right. Alfredo wasn't peeing. His kidneys were shutting down due to the treatment they had given him. Plus, Alfredo's hand was starting to rot. House and Cuddy were discussing. Or rather arguing.

"We're talking about cutting off a kid's hand."

"Yes, we're talking about cutting it off, not subdividing it and putting in condos."

"Are you being intentionally dense?"

"Huh?"

"I think it's premature."

"All of his symptoms are caused by his underlying problem and the medicine we gave him."

"What underlying problem? You have no idea what the underlying problem is."

"You're the diagnostician."

"Fine. It's all my fault. Does that make you feel better?"

"His hand still has an arterial pulse."

"His hand is a cesspool. And the crap is spreading."

"You are being pretty aggressive about destroying a man's livelihood."

"Don't give a damn about his livelihood."

"He loses that hand, he loses his job. All of his jobs. He's not like us."

"He can't work as a cripple?"

Cuddy was shocked by that statement, but recovered.

"He loses his home, his kid brother drops out…"

"American dream destroyed. Very sad, very emotional. Not one medical fact in the whole pathetic tale. You've lost perspective, Cuddy. You've stopped looking at this as a doctor. You're acting like someone who shoved somebody off their roof. You want to make things right? Too bad. Nothing's ever right."

Years later, House would have a patient, Hanna, who'd die from a fat embolism after he had amputated her leg in order to save her life. He would almost throw away years of being clean from his Vicodin addiction because of her death, despite not having been his fault, despite the fact that he had done everything right. It wasn't about blame or guilt. It was just the injustice, the absurdity of it all. He did everything right and she died anyway. Cuddy would show up when he was about to put the pill in his mouth… But that's a chapter in our protagonists' lives to be told another day.

* * *

Eventually they agreed in cutting off Alfredo's hand. Cuddy, who had not been inside her handyman's hospital room once, was the one to tell him and his family about the procedure.

Cuddy was watching the surgery in the observation room when Wilson walked in.

"You okay? Wondering if you made the right call?"

"I wanted to be a doctor from the time I was twelve. I graduated medical school at 25, pissed off that I was second in my class. Chief of Medicine at 32. Second youngest ever, first woman."

"Sad story."

"If I had been Alfredo's doctor-"

"You are his doctor."

"I insisted on giving him Protein C. We had to cut his skull open. I insisted on amphotericin; killed his kidneys. I missed the pneumonia. Completely. I would have searched his house and ignored mine. I would have watched him die, trying to save his hand." She closed her eyes, almost as if she were in physical pain – maybe she was, for all Wilson knew. "If I didn't have House looking over my shoulder… I was so anxious to get ahead I haven't been a doctor. In years."

"You're a good doctor, Cuddy. So maybe you couldn't save half the lives House saves, I don't know anyone else who could. But I'm telling you, House wouldn't save half the lives he does if it weren't for you. And I'm not just talking about employing him – although enduring the son of a bitch is a saint's job all by itself. I'm talking about setting limits on what he does, limits that keep him from killing people everyday, but giving him the freedom he needs to do his job right."

She gave him a grateful close-lipped smile.

They kept watching the surgery.

* * *

In the end, House solved Alfredo's case: he caught psittacosis from working in cockfights, picking up dead chicken. He would live and no more limbs would be taken from him.

Later, House walked in her office.

"What do you want, Greg?" she asked impatiently.

House found it interesting that she would use his first name when she was clearly upset. Was it good? Bad? Maybe it meant that they were okay, that their relationship wasn't in jeopardize, even if right now she was angry with him. Maybe it meant she took work stuff personally, turning work arguments into personal arguments.

"If you're wallowing in self-loathing, I've got something that might help."

He took out a bundle of papers.

"We're getting sued."

Cuddy didn't seem the tiniest bit upset.

"We'll settle. He's got a stub where his hand used to be. We have insurance. Case seems pretty solid to me."

"Ca-ching. The new American dream. Happy ending. Kid's gonna be just fine."

House started to leave, but paused just in front of the door.

"Cuddy."

He turned to face Cuddy again.

"Your guilt. It's perverse, and it makes you a crappy doctor. It also makes you okay at what you do."

"You figure a perverted sense of guilt makes me a good boss?"

"Now, would the world be a better place if people never felt guilty? Makes sex better. You should have seen Stacy in the last months of our relationship. Lot of guilt. Lot of screaming." Cuddy rolled her eyes. _Too much?_ , he sighed. "I know this wasn't just because it was your roof. Cuddy… Lisa, you see the world as it is and you see the world as it could be. What you don't see is what everybody else sees. The giant, gaping chasm in between."

She looked up at the use of her first name: it did have extra power when used solely in the most intimate moments.

"I'm not naïve. I realize-"

"If you did, you never would have hired me. You would never date me."

Cuddy didn't answer.

"You're not happy unless things are just right. Which means two things. You're a good boss. And you'll never be happy."

"You make me happy."

He smiled but shook his head.

"Occasionally. I also make you miserable – more often. You've got a compulsion to make everything better. Which is a never-ending task. It's why you go to Africa with Doctors Without Borders on your vacation; why you make yourself do weekly clinic duty, even though you didn't have to as Dean of Medicine, so you don't lose that doctor-patient contact you think it's necessary to keep being a real doctor. But you still wonder if you really are one...

" _You_ are the one who keeps saying I'm not."

"Treating one patient at a time, like me, like any other doctor, no matter how genuinely happy you are when someone gets better, would never be enough. You want to change the world. Sure, you can change the world a little one patient at a time. But you're so driven and ambitious that you can't help feeling like you can do so much more than that. So you upped the game to one hospital at a time. Because if you do any less than what you believe yourself to be capable of, you feel guilty."

"Great, so I run a hospital out of guilt. Who'd knew that's all it'd take?"

"Not just guilt. Narcissism too. Only a person who thinks everything's about her, feels responsible for everyone else."

"Gee, thanks. That was enlightening. So what now? Am I supposed to feel perversely guilty that my desire to make everything better is symptomatic of what a narcissistic monster I am?"

"Not a monster. Just narcissistic. The good kind of narcissism, although no less annoying. If there weren't people who felt compelled to make things better, there would be no civil rights, no social security system, no functioning hospitals, however lacking any of these are. I certainly wouldn't have a job. Which means your handyman would be dead. You're a dreamer, Cuddy. One who's not afraid to fight to turn her dreams into reality. And you'll never be completely happy."

"Neither will you."

"No one is. You're the one who thinks everyone should be."

"I'm happy enough," she said softly, rephrasing her previous assertion.

"You're easily satisfied for someone so ambitious."

She smiled.

"I'm full of contradictions."

He smiled back.

* * *

 **This one is a reboot of one of the greatest House episodes and the first one which centered on Cuddy (actually one of the very few: besides "Who's Your Daddy" - arguably -, "Fetal Position", "Joy" and, of course, "5 to 9", I can't really recall any more): "Humpy Dumpty" (2x03).**

 **Maybe it's not even a real "reboot", since I've kept like 98% of the (reduced) script of the episode... Except for a couple of key changes that I'm sure you'll find. I really wanted to end the first part of the story - yes, this is the last chapter of Part One! - on this note (each of you is to decide whether future seems hopeful or not) and this episode seemed perfect to do it.**

 **I, obviously, do not own any of the lines that are taken from the show.**

 **Dear Guest who was concerned about the break I'm about to take (and who always gifts me with much appreciated kind words): Part Two is a ship sailing very well, although I will probably post its first chapter within 4-5 weeks, due to excess of work outside this world of fiction...**

 **See you soon!**

 **Monsaraz**


	15. Would you say it back?

**Hello there!**

 **So… it took me a little longer than predicted to post the first chapter of PART TWO of this story and there's no guarantee that I'll be able to post the next chapters every week, but the story is definitely coming together. If this was just about writing smut and writing it fast, I'd never even had started to do it.**

 **Despite belonging to PART TWO, the following chapters will continue the previous numbering.**

 **It is my intent that characters other than our protagonists make more relevant appearances. As you might have already seen, although this is focused on two characters mostly, I do like to give entrance to others, such as Wilson (we had his little drama with the nurse and the divorce), Cameron, Chase and Foreman.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **PART TWO**

 **Chapter 15**

House and Wilson were at the latter's apartment, drinking beer and watching TV. Wilson spent a lot of time there since he and his wife separated, because she was the one to stay in their home. If he didn't spend even more time there, it was because House, on the other hand, was at Cuddy's a lot.

"So everything's good with you and Cuddy?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't it?"

"You've been dating for what now? Four months? You seem to be doing well, but I wanted to ask you. New couples face all kinds of issues, finding their balance and-"

"As opposed to old couples like you and your wife who managed to keep that _balance_ so well?"

"What's your problem?"

They were silent for a while, staring at the TV. Then Wilson spoke again: "Why were you being so defensive about you and Cuddy?"

"I thought we were over this."

"Did you have a fight?"

"No, mom, I did not hit a girl in the playground!"

"Look, it's okay to have doubts even if everything seems to be going well. Something's clearly bothering you and you don't have to talk about it, but it's fine if you want to. I know I'm not in a position where giving relationship advice sounds very advisable…" Wilson chuckled not without a hint of sadness, "but if you want to talk, I'm here."

House didn't respond until a thought crossed his mind and he asked Wilson if Cuddy had said anything to him.

"Is that why you're giving me this speech?"

"I'm not giving you a speech, House. I was just checking up on you, because you're my friend and I care. And no, she didn't talk to me about you other than saying you emptied the lollypop supplies in a record time last month. Was there something in particular you were afraid she might have told me about?"

"No. Just pains me to imagine you two girls talking about our relationship."

They were silent for yet another while. Then it was House's turn to exclaim after a sigh:

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing!"

"About Cuddy?"

"Yes, about Cuddy! I have no idea if I should just let things keep going as they've been, wait for her to take the next step, take it myself, wait for her to give me good and sufficient hints that I can do it or if she's thinking that I should have already done it!..."

"Wow! That's… you've been really worrying about this... What _next step_ are you talking about?"

"How the hell should I know? Didn't you hear me? I have no idea of what I'm doing, Wilson!"

"You've been in a serious relationship before. You know the steps."

"Really? Stacy and I moved in together a week after we met! I've known Cuddy for almost twenty years, do you think that's even comparable?"

"So it's moving in together? Is that something you want?"

"I don't know! I just… I don't want to screw this up. And I don't know how to do it."

"Maybe you should talk to her. See what she thinks about all this. What she wants from this relationship."

"Right, so she ends this because I'm pressuring her to rush things like she did with all those assholes she dated."

"Maybe it was just the fact that they were assholes," Wilson attempted.

"Of course they were! But how do I know I'm any different to her?"

"Oh, House… You are completely smitten. I didn't know you still had it in you… I'm proud of you."

"Oh, shut up! And why on earth would you think that was a good thing?" House did not deny it though, rubbing his face with both hands instead. "This is all gonna go to shit, Wilson. All to fucking shit!"

"It's not. You're just freaking out a little. That's normal. Figure out what you want. Then talk to her. Figure out what she wants. Maybe it's the same. And if it's not, you can probably make some sort of arrangement. After all, you two have spent the last nine years in permanent negotiation and power struggle and you haven't killed each other yet."

Wilson tried to sound reassuring, but it didn't seem to help House in the least. The latter's voice was calm when he spoke though.

"There is much more at stake now."

Wilson nodded. He did not know what else to tell his friend so he offered his services instead:

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Seeing the frightened look in House's face, he quickly clarified, "Just asking her how she's doing, trying to see if she lets out any hopes or fears on her own. I won't ask her anything specific… Just see if she says anything on her own, that's it."

"Don't, she won't tell you anything. She's as guarded as they get. You'll just make her suspicious. And possibly freak her out."

House was right to be concerned: she hadn't given a hint of how she wanted things to evolve. She seemed content with things as they were, which meant she probably wouldn't break up with him suddenly, but she must think about the future as much as he did: she had turned thirty-seven a few months ago, being in a futureless relationship was a waste of time she couldn't possibly want, House reasoned. Then again, she had wanted things to keep being casual and had even rejected him when he first attempted for something more. Up until now, there had been basically three moments in which one could glimpse an intention to pursue something more from her part: the _Am I_ _a keeper?_ talk right after they'd started dating; her saying he was the most interesting person she knew in their first dinner date; her statement that she was happy enough after they had treated her handyman. It wasn't much. She had asked him if he was settling for her in that ill-fated night where she had stormed out after he proposed they'd start dating, but maybe she was the one settling for him. Maybe she thought that having an interesting man around, one who could satisfy her in bed – for the time being at least – without really having to commit to him, letting her free to keep being Wonderdean, was good enough. Made her _happy enough_. The more House thought about these two words, the more he loaded them. What did she want from life? Did she want a life with him? Would they ever be a family? House shouldered at this thought. Was it ridiculous that he was thinking about whether she would be his family after being together, seriously together, for only four months? Was he utterly pathetic?

"Maybe she was right to begin with and this was just one big stupid mistake. But, Wilson, if you appreciate having me as a friend at all, you'll keep your mouth shut around her. I know meddling is your own addiction, but you won't mention any of this to her and you won't ask her any questions. Understood?"

"Alright, alright. I won't say anything. But I think you should. Talk to her, House. You might be pleasantly surprised."

* * *

House and Cuddy were having dinner at her place. As usual when they didn't order in, he was the cook and she would clean the dishes afterwards: he hated that particular task and had rediscovered his pleasure in cooking since he had started doing it for someone other than just him.

"This lamb is great, House. Really, you're getting better by the day."

"Thanks."

"Is everything okay? You've been so quiet since we arrived… Are you still mad that I said no to your patient's treatment?"

"No, he didn't need it. It was a spider bite. So no reason to be mad."

"Okay. Good."

They were silent again for a while. After a few moments looking at her, House said:

"I love you."

Cuddy was about to put food in her mouth and immediately stopped, her mouth hanging open. She lowered her arm, closing her mouth, only to open and close it two or three times, as she was about to say something but couldn't find the words. Finally she spoke.

"I… Greg… You do?"

He merely nodded.

"That's… I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting… Not that I haven't… – She shook her head, trying to find her lost judgement. – I'm sorry, I'm leaving you hanging there… Thank you for telling me that, it means a lot… I think… I think I'm falling in love with you too."

"You are?"

"Yeah... For a while actually…"

"How long?"

"I don't know exactly… Ever since we started this, it's never been something that felt meaningless…"

"But it started by being exactly that."

"What? No… I mean, that's why we couldn't keep it that way, right? Because it felt like something was off, right?"

"I don't know… I wanted more, that's why I pushed things forward. I didn't know if you felt the same way."

"But you do now. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. Well, you wouldn't be here, since this is my place," she chuckled, trying to brush off her discomfort.

"Right, your place… Well, you can never be absolutely sure. You said it yourself at that dinner with Wilson and Julie: people convince themselves that their partners care about them as much as they do, but how can they really know? You could have just thought it wouldn't hurt to give this a try…"

"I didn't enter in this lightly. You know that, that's why I had a hard time taking that step… It wouldn't be so hard if I thought I could just walk away without even blinking, would it?"

"How would I know? From where I stand, you could have just been reluctant because maybe it wasn't worth the trouble."

"What? What are you talking about? You tell me you love me, I say it back and you start this whole… interrogation?" Her features showed realization hitting her. "Oh my God! That's it! You were testing me! You said that… because you were sniffing for answers! It wasn't actually heartfelt."

"People have doubts. I wanted to know where you stood. Is it that bad?"

"You played with me! With my feelings!"

"If you only said that back because you were tricked into it…"

"For God's sake, stop it! Is this how you think people talk about their feelings? Making their girlfriend feel like she's not trusted, like at any given moment she could be put under some… test?"

"When they give no indication whatsoever of where they stand, yeah, that sounds like a reasonable move."

"No indication whatsoever? What the hell are you talking about? I thought things were good, that we were both enjoying being together… What, you've been impatiently counting the days until I get you a big diamond ring?" she asked sarcastically.

"You know it's got nothing to do with that. You-"

"Oh, do I? I thought your whole point was that we knew nothing about where we stand. Or is it just you that are allowed to have doubts?"

"I've been the one to push this forward every step of the way. What doubts can you possibly have?"

She scoffed furiously. They had both gotten up from the table.

"You're such a bastard."

"Is something I said not true?"

"You're the one who's doubting what I said! When you're the one who just said it to… make a point! You know for how long I haven't said that? I can't believe I fell for this!"

"Oh, please, your perfect boy-toy from California wasn't that long ago."

"I never told him that and, believe me, there were plenty of opportunities to say it back."

This time he seemed taken aback, not knowing how to respond. When he opened his mouth to speak, she shook her head and said first:

"Just… Just leave. I don't want to deal with you anymore."

"So that's it? We fight and you kick me out? Can't _deal_ with it? Is this how we're going to deal with all problems? By _not_ dealing?"

"As if you want to work anything through, fix anything, instead of tricking me and doubting me! Throwing completely unfair accusations! Just go! Get out of my face!"

"Fine. It's a good thing that I know better now than to move in with a girlfriend a week after I started dating her like I did with Stacy or I guess this wouldn't be the first time I'd sleep under the porch in a cold, rainy night."

"Leave!"


	16. All we have left

**Chapter 16**

His words had stung. A week had gone by: they had been reducing contact to the bare minimum at work (House was absorbed in a new case and had preferably sent his team to ask Cuddy's permission to his procedures) and had not been together at night. But his words still hurt after a week and she was not one to be tickled by something small. Which meant that she wouldn't go to him, she would wait for him to come to her. Yes, there was pride involved (on both sides), but, damn it, she had told him she had fallen in love with him just to realize that the same words he had told her were not spoken in earnest, but rather as a way of testing her. His distrust hurt her too, but it was that last remark that gave the greatest cause for concern: it was true, he had moved in with Stacy a week after meeting her; he knew Cuddy for almost seventeen years, had worked with her for the past nine, the last six of which he had been single. Maybe she had been right all that time ago, when he first proposed to take things further and start dating: maybe he really was settling for her.

Yes, having doubts sucked. She understood him on this level: she was indeed guarded. She remembered her relationship with Jason, the one boyfriend she'd let herself be so ridiculously in love before. She was ten years younger, they had sworn their undying love for each other, made powerful declarations and promises, none of which had been able to prevent tragedy from happening. Perhaps Jason had been like a vaccine to her: perhaps she would now be forever unable to believe in a relationship again in a way that made it possible to last… Truth was, nevertheless, that she hadn't find anyone since then with whom she would feel the urge to take such a leap of faith… Not until recently. Oh, yes, the urge was there now, how many times had she thought about going to him during the past week to erase all his doubts and make sure herself that he indeed loved her back… But the doubt, the doubt never left her: she had heard those words before and they did not have the strength to keep everything from falling apart. She had heard them from House and they had not been heartfelt… Yes, he must be the one to come to her.

* * *

"Okay, what did you do?"

"Why would you assume I did anything? Maybe Cuddy did something."

"Because you always do something. The fact that you immediately thought I was talking about your relationship with Cuddy helps."

"Well, maybe she did something," House insisted.

"Well, did she?"

No answer.

"I see… Look, if she's mad at you, even if you think you're right, just apologize and get past it. You're ugly when you sulk."

"Sure. Then I'll resent her for always caving when we fight, cheat on her and end up paying her alimony?"

"Nice, House. And you'd have to marry her before actually owing her alimony. Not that she needs your money."

"Neither do any of your wives. They just want to see you squirm. Isn't is infuriating that for all those years of submissive caving all you got was vengeful ex-wives who hate your guts and take your money?"

"Fine. Screw this up with Cuddy. I don't even know how she puts up with you. Why I put up with you."

"Then don't and leave me alone."

* * *

"You need to do something, Cuddy, he's driving everyone insane!" Wilson said, during lunch with Cuddy at the cafeteria.

"He hasn't asked for any illegal treatment, nor assaulted any patients, I'd say he's doing better than usual."

"Because he's avoiding you! He's avoiding anything that might stir a confrontation with you. He doesn't admit that he's letting your relationship affect his work, but he is. And it's worrying him, I could tell."

"I can't do his job for him and he hasn't made anything that I could nag him about, so I don't think there's anything for me to worry."

"You don't really believe that. You're just doing what he's doing: avoiding."

"Damn it, Wilson! What the hell is it to you? Don't you get tired of meddling in other people's lives all the time? Don't you have enough drama in yours? Or is it that it makes you feel better to worry about other people's issues instead of facing you own? – Cuddy burst. Wilson had been bothering her for days now and she was tired of it."

"I'm… I'm sorry, I… I don't like to see you like this… I'm just worried. You're good together, Lisa, I mean it."

She regretted her outburst immediately and even more so after his last words.

"I'm sorry, I'm… This bothers me too… I just…"

"I know. You're right, I'm pushing you. It's just that I always expect you to be the reasonable one, I mean, it's House we're talking about, I don't expect him to be the grown up."

They both chuckled, but she retorted:

"I don't know if I'm much better than him at this… I can stretch a budget beyond its term more easily than I can make a relationship last."

He smiled sympathetically.

"At least you know better than to marry them before letting them go."

She smiled as well.

"Look, there's always Randall from Ortho: he just divorced his second wife and announced that he's gay. I think we're safe from becoming the major joke in every hospital party for a while," Cuddy said.

They chuckled again and went their own ways after the end of the meal.

* * *

Cameron, Chase and Foreman were in the lab, talking obviously about their boss's awful mood of late.

"You think they're done for good?" Foreman asked.

"Cuddy's probably realized a relationship with House would always be doomed to fail."

"Nah… There's always been something there, I doubt it will go away just like that," Chase said.

"That was just wishful thinking from Cameron," Foreman agreed.

"It's not! I'm over House. And even if I still liked him, that doesn't mean I'd be naïve enough to think we could work out a relationship."

"But you wanted one. You practically forced it on him, blackmailed him into going on dates in exchange of getting back on the team."

"One date. The other one he asked me. Anyway, it's over, I've accepted it and moved on. I'm not saying it didn't hurt, but it's in the past. And I hope he finds someone he can be happy with. I'm just not sure it's Cuddy. I like her. But they're always fighting: maybe it's spiky and even fun in the beginning, but that ought to break them at some point."

"Maybe…" Foreman conceded. "I hope she keeps being crazy enough to be with him: he's definitely been in a better mood in the last months. And this week… he's been worse than ever."

House walked in unexpectedly and made them jump by saying loudly:

"If you spent more time thinking about what's wrong with the patient and less time worrying yourselves over whether I'm ever gonna share my cane with Cuddy again, you would've realized that what you're doing is a waste of time. Patient has a parasite."

"What? Which parasite? The symptoms-"

"The kind that makes you wanna suffocate them with a pillow after giving you a severely painful and traumatic experience, followed by lack of sleep, dealing with smelly feces-"

"She had a child?"

"Ca-ching! Silver medal to blondy over there!"

"Eclampsia," Cameron added.

"Bronze to dovey eyes over here!"

"What about the baby?" Foreman asked.

"If you want it you should ask her where it is."

"Is it still alive?" Cameron asked.

"Do I look like the fourteen-year-old who gave birth to it nine days ago? Don't bother to nag the patient either, she has probably already told Cuddy everything you want to know."

"Cuddy? You went to Cuddy to tell her the diagnosis?" Chase asked.

House was silent for five or six seconds before answering. "She diagnosed it."

"Cuddy?" Foreman asked. "How did she do it?"

"By putting the pieces together, do you know any other way? A more interesting question would be: why did she work herself out so much just to prove I was wrong?"

"She cares about the patients. She didn't want to go with your treatment," Chase said.

" _Our_ treatment: talk about team spirit! And you're wrong. She was already late for a meeting with an important donor and she made him wait for another fifteen minutes! She obviously wanted me to be wrong very, very much. Allegedly because she didn't want to give the patient the treatment you three stupidly agreed to do, but I know better, that woman-"

"She diagnosed it in fifteen minutes?" Chase asked, incredulously.

"See, that's why you suck at diagnosing: always focusing on the least important matters."

* * *

A few hours later, Wilson walked in the bar people from the hospital used to go for a drink after finishing their turns. He saw House sitting on a stool by the bar.

"May I?" Wilson asked, pointing to the empty stool next to his boss.

"It's not mine to keep you, is it?"

"We're all sad about what happened…"

"What?"

"You don't know yet? I… The baby died. The girl had put it near a church wrapped in a blanket, but the baby had lung complications and never cried, so no one noticed it… him… The girl went there to make sure someone had picked him two days later, but he was already dead."

House didn't say anything, turning his eyes away from his employee toward his beer. They were both quiet for a long while and Wilson ordered a beer too.

"Did Cuddy tell you that? About the baby?"

"No… I went to her office after your team told me about it, I knocked on her door, but… I think she was crying… She told me she was busy, but I'm sure she was crying."

"So typical of her… Dwelling on other people's pain."

"You can't honestly say you don't feel affected at all when you hear something like that."

"The girl's nothing to me. Why would I care about her story?"

"Then why are you here sulking yourself?"

"I didn't even know-"

"Exactly, you didn't know whether the baby had survived or not. You had got to be curious about that. But you knew odds were that it was dead, so you came here without even be sure. Because for once finding the answer that you were almost, but not completely, certain you would get, was not worth the god-damn pain it came with!"

House put down his glass on the counter, with a rapid, loud movement. "It's never worth it!"

Wilson looked surprised. There was another silence.

"But that doesn't change anything," House continued, "Just because you refuse to see it, doesn't mean it's not there! The fucking answer. It's all we have left: the unmerciful, fucking answer."

They stood looking at their drinks.

"Go to her, House."

"What for? I can't comfort her. No one can, and I'm the worst person at pretending to do it."

"She likes you. Of course she wants you to be with her. Just be with her."

* * *

Later, House did go to Cuddy's and knocked on her door. She opened with a glass of wine in her hand.

"May I?"

She didn't answer, but stood aside so he could walk in.

"Thank you," he said, entering her home.

He sat on the couch and she asked him if he wanted wine. He said no. After neither of them said nothing for about a whole minute, he turned to her and confessed:

"I think I'm more pissed that I'm not the one who diagnosed her than about the baby."

Her mouth opened, speechlessly. He continued:

"But what really pains me is it to see how this affected you. I know you were crying in your office."

"Wilson?"

House nodded.

"So, am I supposed to be flattered by that? Especially since you think it's ridiculous that I let myself get affected by something that happened to someone I'd never even met before."

"I don't think you're ridiculous. I know you don't spend your days crying in your office over patients dying. I know that just happened four times in the last nine years. I know you can't bear to see people in pain, but you put on a strong professional soothing face, because you don't like that people see you when you're vulnerable. I don't think you should be flattered, but I also don't think you're ridiculous. I love you. I'm sorry I was an idiot."

She felt her eyes water.

"That's got to be the strangest, most fucked up love declaration ever."

He lowered his eyes, embarrassed, maybe ashamed of himself, of how unfit he was. She grabbed his hand though.

"I love you too. What does that say about me?"

He caressed the hand that was on top of his with his thump.

"That we belong together."

She smiled and touched his face with her other hand, closing the gap between them and kissing his lips. They kissed slowly, but needingly. When they broke to grasp for air, he repeated, "I do love you, Lisa."

* * *

 **Sorry about the long wait! I am but an avatar of someone who is crazily busier than one should be to even pretend to have time to write... But I am too much of a powerful part of this person for her to just ignore me, so you WILL get your updates, albeit after a while longer than ought to be.**

 **Anyway, I hope this chapter made the wait at least a little bit worthwhile.**

 **Monsaraz**


	17. Remember our time in Paradise?

**Chapter 17**

It was Cuddy's longer vacation break in years. She and House decided to travel outside the country: he wanted to take her to Azores, where his father had been stationed for six months, at the Lajes Air Base, supervising antisubmarine warfare training operations. House had only been there for three months, during summer break, but he had loved the islands and had not gone back until now.

There was something magical about the beauty of the volcanic islands, Sao Miguel in particular. Cuddy and he were currently looking over the twin lagoons, one blue and one green, from atop.

"They're so beautiful!" Cuddy exclaimed.

House only nodded in agreement. He was excited to see Cuddy looking so freely smiling, so happy. Something in his heart twitched when he thought he was the one responsible for it.

"Yeah. I remember thinking that it was crazy that all this blue and green, from the lakes and the ocean, from these pastures, actually hides a volcanic rock that could burst at any time. So powerful it can almost join the European and American continents again, because it's located right at one of the greatest geological faults of the planet and has therefore the capacity to move the tectonic plates."

"Well, now I'll sleep well tonight.

"Don't worry, the beast is sleeping."

"I get you though. It's… black rock and red magma underneath… hidden beneath such green and blue beauty… It's like the paradise at the top and inferno below. Waiting to consume it all…"

She had a dreaming, thoughtful look on her face before turning to him and smiling.

"Come, I want to take a swim at the beach down there. Do you think the water is hot?"

"I think it is, yeah. At Praia do Fogo, the Beach of Fire, but I know a better place. Here – he showed her a point at the map she carried – there's a natural pool of hot waters by a waterfall. You wanna go there?"

"Sure."

They had seen the fuming waters in the morning before having lunch at a cozy restaurant where they ate the famous Cozido das Furnas, a heavy dish of different kinds of meat that boiled underneath the ground with the heat that comes from the depths of the Earth. But what Cuddy was really excited about was letting herself mixed in the nature: she needed to get in the water.

They walked for a long while before arriving there, Cuddy pretending not to be concerned about House's leg during the walk down, but also admiring the blooming flora of the island.

When they got to the Caldeira Velha, of which House had spoken about, no one was indeed there. She took their clothes off and got inside the water, she in her bikini, he in his swimming shorts. They relaxed for a while in silence.

"This is so relaxing. And so beautiful, Greg."

She kissed him and they made out for a moment until she swam away from him, giggling.

"Hey! Come back here! You know, I can catch you! Even with my limp, this is small enough for me to trap you!"

She looked back at him, smiling, and continued her way until the other end of the natural pool. She waited there for him to came to her and when he did he pulled her legs just to tease her. After playfully struggling for a few minutes, they rested with their arms at the edge of the Caldeira.

"I can't believe no one's here. There's plenty tourists in the island, how come none of them is here?"

"Well, it is getting late, it's almost six o'clock."

"But still… Not that I'm complaining, I'd hate that people saw the things you were trying to do to me just now…" She threw him a mischievous look.

"What things? This?" he asked as his fingers rubbed her inner thigh.

"Stop… Just because no one's here, doesn't mean someone can't show up."

"Actually…"

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure no one's showing up…"

"What? How? Oh my God! You arranged this! That's why you insisted on coming here instead of the beach! But how?"

"I may have payed to have this for ourselves for the afternoon. Until midnight actually."

"Seriously? Can people do that? Book this place for themselves?"

"Well, if by booking you mean slipping a few bucks to the people in charge of this place…"

"If they're in charge of this place then it's called booking or renting. Why the need to _slip a few bucks_ like it's a crime?"

"Come to think about it, it probably _is_ a crime… This is public domain: people who manage this can't just rent it and close the doors to everyone else… Hence the need to slip a few bucks to the people who actually run this whole place."

"Like who, the Mayor?" She asked mockingly. He had a suspicious look on his face though.

"Oh my God! You talked to the Mayor? You _bribed_ the Mayor?"

"Not enjoying so much now that you found out we're sort of benefiting from an illegal privilege, albeit provided by high authorities?"

"No, I mean… How much did this cost you?"

"You do pay me well enough to occasionally buy a brand new bike or bribe a couple of corrupt foreign public servants."

"And when did you arrange this?"

He sighed. He did not enjoy interrogations, but he was afraid that she would flee after discovering another of his illegal arrangements, that followed her even during vacation, so he answered. She seemed more surprised than angry though, at least for now.

"I came here the weekend after you agreed to come with me. Are you angry now that you know this? Do you want to leave?"

He looked so disappointed it pained her to see.

"No. No! I mean, this is… probably the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. I don't even know what to say. I'll never be able to top it."

He made a victory jest with a closed fist.

"That's what I was aiming at: you totally lose, you competitive freak!"

"I'm not a competitive freak! Seriously though, thank you. This is amazing."

"I told you I loved you. I know how little words mean-"

"They mean a lot."

"…and I figured it was time to do a little bit more acting, a little bit less talking – he finished, with an insinuating lop-sided smile."

"Oh, did you?"

They started to make out again and this time she did not stop it before they reached the pick of intimacy that no one was there to witness.

* * *

The next day they did go to the beach. October was a good time of the year: there was not many people and the water was at a very good temperature. They had the mountain on the back and the wide ocean facing them on the front. It was idyllic.

"We should just stay here forever."

"That'd be nice," Cuddy lazily answered.

"We'd sell everything and come live by the beach. Or the lake, whichever you like better."

"It'd be some funny news to tell my parents. _You know, mom, after so much time worrying that I might never settle down, I decided to do it on an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean."_

"See, want a better way to piss her?"

Cuddy laughed.

"She'd just tell me I wouldn't last a week. In fact, she thinks that if I haven't settled down by now I never will. Here or anywhere else."

"Tell her you've just been waiting for the perfect boyfriend to come. Now that you found him, she's got nothing to worry about anymore."

She laughed again.

"The perfect boyfriend, that's rich! Anywya, it doesn't matter whether I'm currently dating someone or not. I thought that if Julia kept giving her grandchildren, she would consider herself satisfied and stop insisting that I need to contribute to the growth of the family too. As if she would let me off the hook like that! Everything that happens to me, every choice I make, she takes it as a direct insult to her. You know, she's never worked a day in her life so she thinks my excessive dedication to work was somehow a way of spiting her or showing her how I disapprove her own life choices, just like she disapproves mine, especially that I'm still single. She actually told me this. Maybe she's partially right: I did always have a tendency to do the opposite of what she tells me."

"Like not dating the neighbor's annoying twelve-year-old son?"

Cuddy chuckled.

"Yeah, stuff like that."

"My dad was like that too, blatantly honest about the disappointments I gave him. I suppose it provided some sort of stability to know that whenever I screw up he wouldn't let it go before thoroughly showing me how angry and disappointed he was. Better than not seeing it coming."

It was rare for him to talk about his family or his childhood. Maybe it was the fact that they were so far away from home, Cuddy thought.

" _Was_? Is he…?"

"No, but I practically never even see him now. Not that I saw a lot of him as a kid."

He didn't elaborate and Cuddy sensed that she shouldn't push, although she had the strange urge to ask him if he liked it better when his dad wasn't around when he was a kid. Which was silly, because even though she had often wished that her mother would cut her some slack, she knew that having an absent parent while growing up would have been incomparably worse.

"Maybe you're right. It's bad if people bottle up stuff and try to act like everything's okay when it's not. But I don't know, I wish she would just give me a break sometimes. You know what she said when I told my parents I'd been elected Dean? She told me she wasn't surprised, since I worked so hard. Couldn't she have just said a simple _you did good_? I could practically hear the accusation behind her words, that I had no life outside work. But when I was in a serious relationship a couple of years before that, all she could do was pointing out every single reason why she thought the guy I was with was wrong for me. Of course, she turned out to be right about him, so I suppose maybe she really just wants what's best for me and I'm an ungrateful daughter just like she says…"

She scoffed at the memory and then became embarrassed for her ranting.

"God, House, I'm so sorry! I'm complaining like a brat! Ruining vacation with this depressive mommy issues talk!"

It's fine. I'd much rather learn all about your psychological issues, which can certainly come in handy in the future, than making small talk about hospital gossip," he said.

She looked down, apprehensive. He understood why immediately.

"Hey, I was kidding. I'm not gonna spread around the stuff you tell me when we're alone. You can trust me, Lisa. I do want to know everything about you. Your tastes, your ideas, your issues. Not to use it against you. Just because... I love you."

Cuddy felt deeply moved. She could tell he was being completely honest. But her real fear was not whether he would make such knowledge public, rather how much potential damage there was in exposing herself so much to one sigle person.

"There's not much to know… Other than these embarrassing spoiled kid issues, I'm a pretty regular person."

He scoffed playfully.

"It's true. I'm not some misanthropic genius who dedicates himself to save the lives of people he avoids having any sort of interaction with."

"Who's that? Sounds like pretty cool and intriguing guy."

"Who said anything about being a guy? That's just sexist."

They laughed.

"Anyway," she continued, "most people would give him a rather less favorable depiction."

"And you?"

Both their memories went back to a while ago when she was the one to ask him that same question, regarding whether she was a keeper or not.

"You _are_ one of the biggest pains in my Dean of Medicine ass."

"Not the biggest? I'm insulted."

"I know it's hard to believe, but there are plenty other self-centered conceited doctors at PPTH. Nagging bunch of boring nitpickers. At least, even when you're giving me a headache, you're never boring. I admit that I can't help being shamefully attracted to your own special kind of peculiarities," she said playfully.

Then she added more seriously: "For better and for worse, you are the most incredible person I know."

He smiled. "You know, you are even less normal than I am if you like me at all."

"Please! No one likes you half as much as yourself. Of course, no one hates you as much as yourself either, so that ought to make it up a little."

"See, I sure sound like an intriguing guy!"

* * *

They had dinner at a restaurant by the see and went back to the hotel after a short walk at night. They whispered words of passion as they made love. Then they slept contentedly until House's phone ringed. Luckily Cuddy only stirred, not waking up, and he went to the balcony to take the call. He stood there for a long time after the call was over, looking at the horizon, despite not being able to see much with the few lights that were on. Cuddy, who had woken up missing his warmth in the bed, admired his thoughtful posture for a moment before entering the balcony and putting her hand on his shoulder blade.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey."

"So much thinking. Reminiscing about all the girls you left crying when you left this place when summer ended all those years ago?"

"I was too young to have any girls when I spent the summer here."

He rubbed his leg.

"Is it hurting? From the walk today?"

"Funny that you'd think that would be the cause and not the wicked things you did to me just a while ago."

He was joking but she seemed to take it seriously, concerned.

"Did I hurt you? When I turned over? Or-"

"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt more than usual."

"Okay…"

They both stood silent with their gazes upon the dark view.

"I hate that you're in pain all the time."

"Yeah…"

Another silence.

"I got a call… From Cameron. My team found a case: 26 years old, neck snapped while making an inverted yoga pose, paralyzed from neck down… but the x-rays show no evidence of spinal injury."

"You want to go back." It wasn't a question. She knew he couldn't stay away from a case like that. But boy, was that shitty: they had only been there for two days!

"I could DDX from here, it's not like I want to see the patient…"

"Oh, no. You'd just be absorbed by your case and worse: I'd have to keep your team from doing anything crazy under your orders all the way from here which is just too much trouble and would ruin my peace anyway," she paused, "How did they even find a case? Didn't you give them vacations as well."

"Yeah, but Cameron had overdue clinic duty."

"No way."

"Okay, _my_ overdue clinic duty."

"Why would she give up her vacation to do your clinic duty?"

"I might have told her I'd let her conduct a DDX if she'd do all my overdue hours until the end of next month…"

"You'd never."

"Of course I would. It'll be interesting."

"You better not put patient's health at stake just to play one of your little games."

"My games can be quite big."

Cuddy's face turned even more serious. He sighed.

"Relax. She'll just make me run the diagnosis by constantly asking for my approval."

They were silent again for a moment.

"I'm sorry."

She looked at him with a look of clear disappointment, but resigned.

"It's fine, I get it. You can't help it. I had a great time these two days anyway… Just wished we'd had the chance to swim naked on a beach at night on an island in the middle of the Ocean, followed by smokin' hot sex in this amazing bedroom, and then do it all over again tomorrow and the next day, and next-"

"Arr! You're killing me, woman!"

"It's the least you deserve!"

"But you're not mad?"

"Pissed off that our vacation was cut short like this. But no. Not mad. Not _really_."

He smiled gratefully.

"But I'm still having _my_ vacation. You convinced me to clear three weeks off my schedule: I'm not going back now."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna use it. Enjoy myself. In fact, this can be good: take a break from you."

"What about overseeing my crazy procedures?"

"Parker is replacing me. He'll deal with you."

"So… you're gonna stay here? Alone?"

"Yep. Maybe not the whole time… I have some catching up to do with a couple of friends in New York, maybe I'll spend a week there, do some shopping… And I can stop by my parents' before going back in. They're always complaining that I only see them on birthdays and Thanksgiving."

"Okay then… I won't deny that I'm concerned that's too much time for you to reflect about how I ditched you on a vacation over a case and you'll come back hating me."

"Well, when you put it like that… Relax, if I was going to get mad at you, I'd already be mad at you. It's who you are: the brilliant craziness that makes you solve your cases is the same one that makes you turn away countless mind-blowing sex to go solve your cases. Probably the same one that made you rent a waterfall just for ourselves for today."

"You know what this means then? We need to take advantage of our shortened vacation as much as we can now…"

"Oh, you've got some nerve! I should punish you. Keep you waiting until I get back."

"There'll be enough waiting. Almost three weeks. That's long enough. Too fucking long." He wrapped her waist with his hands. "Let me make you worth your while before that. Make it up to you."

"You do owe me a lot of sex…"

"I do…"

They were kissing now. And then walked back into the bedroom, where he did his best to make it up to her. Afterwards, his head laid above her breast, his lips occasionally kissing her collarbone without needing to raise his head.

"Was it enough to make you miss me? House asked.

"It was so good I don't know if I'll ever need it again. I think I've had my lifetime dose."

He laughed.

"Oh, now that is a bunch of crap! You're as insatiable as they get. You'll be craving for more in the morning."

"I'm not insatiable. You just happen to be irritatingly good, can't blame me for keep wanting more! It's completely unfair to do what you just did considering how long I'll be without it! Because of you!"

He looked up at her now, raising his head, supporting himself on his arms.

"I really am sorry. This is being the best time I've had in a very long time. It's just… I need to figure it out."

"I know. It's an addiction. Just like Vicodin. Probably worse, because this one has no physical pull whatsoever, it's all in your messed-up little head."

"My head is not little. How could it keep my big, big brains otherwise?"

"That just means it's a bigger mess-up."

"You're mean."

"You deserve it."

"You could come with me. Even if you don't go back to the hospital right away."

"No way! And do what? I'd stay at home all day doing nothing, waiting for you to come home, _when_ you'd come home, at God knows which hours? Besides, I know that if I go back to Princeton right away, I won't be able to stay away from the hospital… Which is sad and would give a terrible message to the Board: it's the first real vacation I've taken since… ever!, and I'd be going right back? Not only would I be a joke: the stressful obsessive Dean who couldn't be away from her baby-hospital for more than a weekend; but they'd expect me to be receptive to be called away from any future vacation I have, since I seem unable to make it 'til the end of it without coming back anyway."

"You're right. I'll miss you though."

"Good. I hope you suffer more than I will."

"I will."

"You really are something else," she said, shaking her head in good-hearted incredulity.

"Is that bad?"

A cloud of _déjà vu_ swept by her mind. Yet again she shook her head no, and stretched her neck to kiss him.


	18. Endorphins

**Chapter 18**

Two weeks had gone by. When House first arrived at the hospital, Chase and Foreman were already there, working on the case. They took five days to solve it. House had been increasingly impossible to stand ever since. If one's first thought were that having such a great weekend with Cuddy would improve his mood, one would probably need to consider that it only served to enhance the feeling of missed opportunity. He thought about proposing to join her in New York, but figured she'd probably be angry if he just decided to hop in and out of vacation with her on a whim. He'd told her how much he missed her on the phone, after his case was over, so she could have invited him if she wanted, but she seemed to be reveling on making him suffer. Besides she was going to visit her parents in a couple of days and that was definitely something that he did not want to do with her and would only even consider if she'd positively make him go. He was curious, though, to know if that was a step she was considering taking: introducing him to her parents.

It was late, but he was still in his office, looking at the window while sitting on his chair by the desk. Chase walked in. He had forgotten his coat apparently. Before he walked out the door, Chase turned around.

"Hey, you wanna… grab a beer or something?"

"Shouldn't you be asking Cameron that?"

"Why?"

"Oh, come on! When are you going to find the guts to ask her out?"

"I have. She didn't accept. But had sex with me anyways, so I guess I can't complain."

"Seriously?"

It was true. She was high and feeling vulnerable. He had gone to her place, worried, only to be sexually man-handled by her.

"Of course not."

"Which part? The asking out or the sex?"

Chase smiled knowingly.

"You know, you're the one who looks like an abandoned puppy without Cuddy here. She's really got you, doesn't she?"

"You know, that is the kind of remark that _does_ get you fired."

"Why? I think it's great. Most people are hoping it all goes to hell because they openly hate you. The others want it to go to hell because they secretly hate _her_. But the truth is, you being together gives everyone more hope than if Jesus landed on this hospital: if you can find someone to love and who loves you back, everyone's got a chance."

"Why, Chase! I already knew you had a messed-up idolized view of me, I did not imagine you actually put me on a Messiah pedestal!" House said sarcastically. Then continued, irritated:

"What would you know about whether she loves me or not and I love her back?"

"I think it's my turn to say: _oh, come on!"_

Chase seemed to have pointed out an obvious fact. An obvious fact that had been fully processed long enough to be perceived as completely unsurprising or new. Realization hit House.

"It was you. Not Wilson, not Cameron."

"What?"

"The bet. You're the one who bet Cuddy and I loved each other."

Chase attempted to shake his head, but ended up giving an uncomfortable smile, nodding.

"Why would you do that?"

"To mess with Cameron?"

House almost chuckled.

"Good answer. You're just a romantic bastard, aren't you?"

"And you?"

"I'm full of endorphins. Her ass does that to me."

"Her ass is not here and here you are thinking about her."

"About _it._ And don't you know it's not okay to mention a woman's ass to her boyfriend, you idiot?"

Chase smiled openly.

"Good night, House."

* * *

Cuddy had been enjoying herself. Shopping. Relaxing. Catching up with some friends. She did miss House, especially after those two days in Azores. She had been disappointed that they could not continue their vacation, but truth be told, a small part of her strangely admired his dedication to the cause. _The puzzle_ , she chastised herself. It made no difference for this matter: it was the eccentricity she couldn't help be attracted to, what made him brilliant, not some non-existent drive to cure the sick, if she was really honest with herself. _I'm even more screwed up than he is_ , she thought, _being attracted by a guy, not just despite he ditched me over a case, but_ because _he ditched me over a case_. This was actually intimately related to one of her greatest fears regarding relationships, if not the greatest: that she always felt attracted to the worst guys. It was what her mother always told her and despite her rebellious and annoyed retorts, she inwardly believed her mother was more right than she admitted. More than not trusting men, Cuddy didn't trust herself with them. Why did she always have to like the bad ones, the ones that would probably hurt her? If she was any other woman, she'd pick up the signs, like the Azores fiasco, and walk away right then and there. For good. But that night, when he'd told her about the case Cameron had found, she couldn't help feeling strangely more sorry for him than herself. She knew he wasn't walking out on her because he didn't want to be with her, knew he was going almost vexed, but it was like she had said, an addiction. Which was probably why he was a completely crazy choice for a boyfriend, but, hell, she hadn't felt this good with anyone for a long time and she wasn't ready to end it over something she wasn't even really angry about.

She drove to her parents' house almost a week before her vacation ended. She was currently having dinner with them.

"So how are things at the hospital?" her dad asked.

"Everything's good. We had more donations last year than the previous three combined. We're buying some new equipment to the oncology ward which will put us on the top of the hospitals in the Eastern Coast."

"That's great."

"Oh, but that's not what we really want to know, is it, Richard?" Arlene said. "Your sister told us you've been seeing someone new…"

"She did?"

"You knew she would, which means you wanted us to know about his existence. But you didn't tell her anything about who he was, except that he was a doctor at your hospital…"

"There's not much more to tell…"

"Does he have any kids?"

"No."

"Has he been married?"

"No."

"So how old is he?"

"Uhh… He's six years older than me, so fourty-three."

"You know your age difference better than his age? That's weird."

"Why?"

"Normally people count the difference based on the ages, not the other way around."

"Well, I met him… briefly in college, in my freshman year, and I remember he was six years older than me then. I guess that didn't change."

Her father chuckled. Her mother didn't. In fact, now she looked almost alarmed.

"You met him in college? How?"

"We barely met. I audited a class he was in. We didn't speak much, he was already a legend and I was just a freshman."

"A legend? You mean… You're not talking about that guy you obsessed about for months, are you?"

"What? How do you-"

"Your sister told me."

"But how do you remember? That was so long ago!"

"A mother cares about everything that happens to her daughters."

Cuddy fought the urge to roll her eyes. She learned to expect a lot from her mother, but she had been caught in surprise.

"Wasn't he some sort of genius bad boy? What, did he turn into a quiet, conservative doctor over the years?"

"No… He's… still pretty unconservative. In fact, he's one of those guys you'd find completely inappropriate for me to date."

The better strategy with her mother was always to grab the bull by its horns. Well, maybe not the better… but definitely the one she couldn't help using.

"Are you still choosing men based on how much of a defiance towards me that would be? I thought you were over that."

"No, mother. I didn't choose him to defy you. I like him. He's not… He can be difficult, but there's so much more to him-"

"Oh, for crying out loud! When have I heard that speech? When will you learn?"

"You don't even know him!"

"I'm hoping I won't have to. Praying you come to your senses in time. Which is not passing any slower…"

"Of course. This part was expected, boyfriend or no boyfriend."

"Don't act like I want nothing more than to make you feel bad. I worry about you."

"Of course, a mother cares."

"Do not be insolent."

"Okay. I think we've had enough of that. Lisa, dear, your mother does worry about you. And so do I. You're a smart woman, I trust your judgement. Everyone can be mistaken about people sometimes." Every person in that room knew just how much Lisa could be mistaken about people: an engagement that fell apart three days after happening was certainly proof of that. "But that doesn't mean this man you're dating doesn't deserve a chance. You should bring him sometime. That is, if things really are serious."

"Thank you, dad. We're… seeing where things go. It's only been a few months."

"Does he treat you well?"

 _Shit_ , she cursed to herself. Answering to her father was even worse than her mother. Precisely because his words did not feel like constant accusations, caring as they were and uttered with genuine concern instead. And this particular question… If she gave her father a couple of examples of how House has treated her at the hospital, he'd be horrified.

"He… I like talking to him. He makes me laugh. He's exciting and… he's sweet."

Sweet was not an adjective usually used to describe House, but it was true. Of course he could also as easily be a complete bastard. What he really was, was intense: everything he did, diagnosing, discussing ethics and religion, fighting with her, making love to her, he put an intensity in everything so at contrast with the uncaring way he wanted people to see.

"He challenges me. I like that."

"That is precisely what your problem has always been. You want the rebel who brings you flowers; the black sheep who stands out for the wrong reasons, simply because he stands out, romantically hoping he's going to cherish you like any of those nice jewish boys you abhor would do. You want it all: commitment and excitement, rebellion and reliability. Your standards are still too high. And then, paradoxically, you pick the worst choices because you think you saw something special, something that stands out, and you end up disappointed."

No one spoke for a moment after Arlene's little speech. No one could say she did not know her daughter well, probably better than anyone. Again, this was what irritated Cuddy the most: that her mother could be right. So painfully obviously right.

"You know what, Lisa, I'd like you to come with me to Pete's ranch tomorrow. How long haven't you ridden a horse? It's been four years since I broke my pelvis and we decided to sell ours! Pete bought this beautiful think, sweetheart, a gorgeous male, you've got to see how his skin shines!"

"I'd love to."

There was no more talk about Lisa's love life that evening.

* * *

Two days later she was back at Princeton. She went to her house to drop her bags, but didn't even bother unpacking them: she went straight to House's. It was late and dark, but there was light coming from the window of House's bedroom which she was looking at from the back of his building. She grabbed a small rock and threw it at the window. She waited. Nothing. She threw another rock. She waited. She was about to grab a third one, when she heard someone's steps coming closer.

House looked outside with te window still closed but saw nothing. Suspicious, he opened the window to peek outside. Maybe Wilson was messing with him. Maybe one of the neighbour's kids. So he opened it and stretched his head forward, looking at his left side. The moment he turned his head in that direction he saw a person, a woman it seemed, stretching herself to grab his face and he was being kissed the next second. _Lisa_. Funny how now he immediately thought about her as Lisa, he would have thought, if not for the surprising sensation. Despite their talk about calling each other House and Cuddy or Greg and Lisa indifferently, and despite calling themselves by their last names at work when there were other people around, they were falling in the habit of using their first names whenever they were in private.

She had waited for him to look outsider, positioning herself on his left in a way that she couldn't be seen from inside. When he looked in her way, she got on her tiptoes to reach his face – his window wasn't very high, but she wasn't very tall either – and she kissed him.

"Lisa! What- I thought you were only coming next Saturday!" He asked when they broke the kiss.

"I came early. Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Are you kidding me?"

He grabbed her face to kiss her again as if to prove how happy he was.

"Why didn't you just knock?"

"Figured this was something you'd do. Didn't want you to have the pleasure of doing it first."

He laughed.

"You know, I'm competitive too, you'll just have to expect me to do crazier stuff… like go down your chimney at Christmas!"

"I'd like to see that."

They were so excited they couldn't keep theirs hands of each other or stop kissing, despite the uncomfortable position.

"Come on," he finally said. "I'll open the front door."

"No, just help me climb this."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

She jumped three or four times before being able to steady her belly on the window sill. Then it was easy: first one leg inside and then the other. Once she was inside they were kissing and feeling each other up more properly.

"You're crazy athletic, you know? And just crazy too."

"Which crazy do you like more?"

"Are you saying I have a thing for crazy chicks? I think I'm offended."

"Well, I wouldn't judge, I clearly have a thing for crazy… roosters."

He laughed.

"You couldn't say crazy cocks, could you?"

"You couldn't help saying it, could you?"

"Nope."

They were smiling at each other. He dove for her again and this time they didn't stop until they were breathless under the covers of his bed.

Her head was resting on his chest and her fingers were playing with the hair he had there. They stood silently like that for a long time.

"You're very thoughtful."

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking so much about?"

"I'm not thinking about anything."

"Must be some thinking for you to get defensive like that."

"I'm not defensive."

"See?"

"You're impossible."

"Clearly not."

"My goodness, you're so funny!" she mocked sarcastically.

"I know. Stop muffling your laughter."

She clearly wasn't muffling anything, but couldn't help chuckling now. Not for long though.

"Trip to parent's house didn't go so well?"

"You really can't help yourself, can you? Do you need to be curious about everything?"

"Not everything. Don't all women want to have a boyfriend who cares about their well-being?"

"Oh, such care…" she retorted sarcastically. "My well-being is fine."

"Look, I'm glad you came early. But you've got to admit… there's something fishy here… you coming late at night to my place, throwing rocks at my window… when you were supposed to still be at your parents'…"

"There's nothing fishy about anything. Fine, I was naive to think it would be possible to spend more than a day or two where my mother lives. Nothing surprising though."

"What did she nag you about? That you're still a workaholic with no boyfriend… or a workaholic with a boyfriend you didn't bring with you?"

"You're not gonna go all Mr. Perfect on me, are you? This is not your surreptitious way of saying you _wanted_ to come and meet my parents, is it?"

"I don't." He chuckled. "You called Andrew Mr. Perfect."

She smiled too. "You called him Andrew."

"There were questions… about a new boyfriend…" Cuddy started. "My sister couldn't keep her mouth shut, of course. If you ever happen to meet them, well, I guess you should thank me in advance that their expectations are already low, so whatever you do, it won't really matter much."

"Thanks! Is that your technique? Trash-talking the guys you date for your parents to hate them all in advance?"

"That wouldn't be a bad idea. But no… I told them I had met you in college and she realized who you were…"

"Seriously?"

"I spoke to Julia a couple of times about you back then. Of course she had told everything about it to our mother. So she remembered you as _some sort of genius bad guy_. I think those were the words she used."

"Cool. That's how you described me to your sister?"

"Something like that, maybe. God, that woman has a memory!"

"You… are totally screwed!"

"Shut up!"

"It's true. There's no way she'll ever like me."

"She'd hate you anyways."

"Probably true. I do need to thank you though. No need for me to even try if I ever meet her."

Cuddy's head was no longer on House's chest. They were side by side. She looked at him after a moment.

"I think my father would like you."

"No way.

– How would you know?"

"Dad's never like me."

"Poor baby. Seriously, I think he would. He sees the good in people even when they're… difficult. I mean, he married my mother…"

"He would definitely not like me."

"You're so needy sometimes, you know that?"

"I'm not fishing for compliments. I'm stating a fact. I'm not _any_ dad's definition of a good guy. The ladies dig me though. I'm handsome... quick-witted, funny, charming…"

"Those are pretty irresistible traits…" She kissed him. "Maybe… I'll gather enough courage to introduce you to my parents until my dad's birthday…"

"Not the best birthday present a father could expect."

"Stop that. I like you better when you're a confident arrogant bastard."

"Do you even hear yourself sometimes?" He asked jokingly. Then he said more seriously:

"I won't lie to you: meeting your parents is not something I want to do. If you decide that's something you really want, fine, I'll do it; but if it's not, all the better. Anyway, I assure you: it's not something I want to pressure you into."

"Okay… Again, I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted… I appreciate your understanding though. It's not that I'm embarrassed of you… It's just a big step to me…"

"You mother?"

"No… I'm a big girl, I don't need her approval. I just… I introduce them a new guy, we break up… I can deal with mom's nastiness, but dad… He can't stand watching me sad. And I hate doing that to him... I should have stayed longer with them: I know he was disappointed that I was leaving so soon…"

"So that's what you were thinking about. You did have your guilty face on."

"You couldn't even see my face properly!"

"Should have figured anyway. It's always guilt with you."

She didn't respond to what he said, speaking more to herself than to him.

"What was I supposed to do? She drives me insane!"

"There, there. Enough of that. No more feeling guilty or sorry for yourself."

"You're right." She yawned. "I'm tired. I think I'm gonna sleep now."

She woke up in the morning, with his arms wrapped around her. It felt good. Really good. No, her mother could not be right… Not again…


	19. Some things never change

**Chapter 19**

As it turned out, it would not be long until House met the infamous mother of his girlfriend. Only two weeks actually. There he was standing in a room filled with people, Cuddy people, feeling uncomfortable and misplaced. People looked at him. Some more surreptitiously than others. No matter the situation, he always got the looks. Curiosity, pity, compassion. Mostly curiosity though. Usually the cane was enough for that effect; this time there was the added interest of being the cripple Lisa brought with her.

It was quite an assembly of Cuddys. Aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews. Friends. Their husbands. Their wives. He sighed. He left the room and walked down the hall. He ended up entering the kitchen. No one was there, but for old Nana, Cuddy's grandmother from her mother's side, sitting in a corner. He had heard some people say that it was her spot and today she was in no mood to be disturbed, so she had kicked everyone from the kitchen as soon as they walked in, not caring if food was supposed to go to where potentially starving people were. Cuddy had spoken once or twice to House about old Nana. He learned that Cuddy loved her dearly and that she was completely blind.

Not wanting to be scolded by the old woman, he immediately turned to leave.

"You're Greg, aren't you?"

"How do you know?"

"I heard the cane."

"There's also an old man with a cane in the living room."

"Bernie doesn't have blue eyes."

"You're blind."

"You don't need to leave. Come here, sit by my side."

She patted a bench next to her chair.

House was intrigued by the old woman, but wasn't sure staying would be a good idea.

"I should go find Lisa."

"She'll be back in a while. But you're right, I don't want to sit here anymore either. Let's go for a walk. Come, give me your arm."

The old woman stood up and House gave her his free arm. They left through the kitchen door.

* * *

 _"Come on, play me something!"_

 _"Why do women always ask me to play for them?"_

 _"Because you know how. And have a piano."_

 _"I just feel used."_

 _"Quit nagging and just play me something."_

 _House sat on the piano stool and put his glass of scotch down on top of the instrument. He started to play "You can't always get what you want"._

" _Ironically, I just got it."_

 _"Actually, I'm playing this one for myself. So I'm not really playing_ you _something. Which means that neither of us is getting what they want. Which proves just how right this song is."_

Cuddy sneered at him.

" _You suck."_

 _He chuckled at her pout and started to play something else. Gershwin: "The man I love"._

* * *

"My burrow is over there." Old Nana pointed, although she couldn't see it anymore. "God knows how many time's Arlene's threatened to put it down though. Says it's old and dirty and only gets in the way. And that I spend most of my time in my bedroom and in the kitchen anyway. I'm afraid someday I'm going to walk in its direction and never stop because it's not there anymore."

"I'm sure you'd noticed that you walked more steps than you'd need to get there."

"Oh, darling! I'm an old fool, do you think my mind's still able to keep count of the steps I take?"

They walked a while in silence. House thought that maybe he should say something, make small talk, but he was no good for these situations. Old Nana brought him out of his silent discomfort.

"You know, I didn't like Richard at all when Arlene first introduced him to me. I thought he was no match for her. And I thought he was ruining her life. All my life I'd worked hard to get her in college and when she was only a couple of years away from finishing graduation, she met meets this boy, only in college himself, with a likeable face and what seemed like good intentions, but at the end of the story she was dropping out and he was going to be the big-shot doctor. Years passed but my grudge wouldn't go, it only got bigger. He wasn't even that great at his job, not like Lisa is: Richard never had the same drive. Arlene seemed perfectly content with her choice though, but I thought I knew better: she was always a bright, stubborn woman, there was no way she would be forever content with her choice…"

Old Nana stopped talking for a moment while they entered what she called her outbuilding, a brown cabin made of wood that looked like a small house coming right from a children's storybook with a forest and elves in it. They sit on two benches in front of a very small kitchen counter.

"She was getting more and more annoyed that I wouldn't let it go, Richard always trying to keep things bearable between me and her. One day, Lisa had just been born… What a baby she was! Full of curls and stubbornness already… Richard offered me a college enrolment already filled, ready to sign, tuitions at his cost and expense, and told me that I spent so much time nagging Arlene about not finishing college, I could make a better use of it finishing it myself. I thought he was mocking me, thinking I'd never accept. But I did. I sign the damn paper and sent it to the University. He was already making some money as a doctor, but his career was only beginning and although his parents were rich, he avoided at all costs asking them for anything. He got along just fine with them, but he had his pride. I knew paying college tuitions for his fifty-year-old mother-in-law wasn't something he'd asked them to pay and I knew they were just starting to build their family, but hell, he was the one who should have thought about the consequences of mocking me! So I enrolled. Arlene was horrified, but Richard told me he was glad and wished me the best of luck. First I thought the man was some sort of devious bastard trying to pull one on me. Then I thought he was crazy to incur in such a cost when he was starting a family! But he explained me that a special program to encourage older people to go to college had started and only a small part of tuitions was due at first and the rest would only be charged if the student failed any of the subjects. Arlene was angry for a long time, but he didn't back out, he supported me to the end. It was the best, most generous gift anyone ever gave me."

Tears had fallen from her eyes, as she became moved by the memory.

"That and this shaggy burrow, as Arlene calls it. He made it built for me, a while after I came to live with them. This way, I could get away from Arlene for a while when we needed to. Lisa soon took over it for that same purpose. It became our special hideout. It was almost a sacred place: we locked ourselves in and no matter how long and hard Arlene knocked, we wouldn't move or make a noise and eventually she would go away and Lisa would tell me why her mother was after her again. Sometimes I'd ask her and she answered that I knew it was me she was after that time. Oh, that girl made me laugh! Such a serious, well behaved, responsible little girl everybody thought… but, boy!, was she a snarky stubborn little devil! As sassy as her mother! But with her father's heart… Her father's heart…"

She started to quietly cry again.

* * *

 _After Gershwin, followed by a mix of Ellington and Davis with a little improv for good measure, his fingers lead him to a sadder tune. Schubert. The piano Sonata in A major, second movement. When he finished he looked at Cuddy, who was stretched on the couch, lied on her back and had her eyes closed. It had happened more than once, having a woman fall asleep while he played. It irritated him, but he couldn't help being fond of her still, peaceful figure._

" _Don't stop,"_ she said, quietly.

" _I thought you were sleeping."_

" _I'm not."_

 _So he kept playing until Cuddy's cellphone furiously rang. She got up and picked it._

" _It's my sister. Keep playing, I'll tell her I'm on a concert. I won't even be lying."_

 _But she did not tell that to her sister. Almost as soon as she clicked the green button, her mouth hung open, but no word came out. House stopped playing._

* * *

Old Nana offered House a cup of tea that she made with impressive dexterity.

"Thank you." House said when he took the cup.

"You're welcome."

They drank silently for a while.

There were four knocks on the door: one first, followed by a short pause, then two in a row and a last one. The door opened. It was Cuddy.

"Nana… Everyone's probably wondering where we are. You brought Greg here?"

"Never mind them, Lisa. I thought you'd be by the lake longer."

Cuddy sit at her grandmother's side. House was facing them.

"I thought I wanted to be alone, but…"

Cuddy's voice faltered and her eyebrows contracted as she closed her watering eye.

"I know, sweetie, I know…" Old Nana said, pulling Cuddy to her and soothing her hair. Cuddy was now crying freely on her grandmother's chest.

House looked down, feeling embarrassingly like a voyeur. When Cuddy's crying subsided a bit, he said:

"Maybe I should leave you two alone."

"It's okay, we'll go all together in a while, right, sweetie?"

Cuddy wiped her teary face with the back of her hands.

"Right."

In that moment, Julia walked in.

"You didn't knock!" Old Nana exclaimed.

"It wasn't locked, Nana."

"Because I lost the key and your mother hasn't made me a new one yet. You know you have to knock, Julia."

Cuddy's sister sighed. She looked tired.

"I'm sorry, Nana. I just wanted to ask Lisa if she could come inside. People are leaving. They want to say goodbye to you. And you Nana, if you're up to it."

"I'll be right in." Cuddy answered.

"Why can't they just leave without bothering us? It's like they only came to show us how they care! Damned show-off's. Well, I don't give a damn whether they do or not."

"Nana, please! It's really not the time for your rebellions," Julia said.

"It's okay, Nana. It's not fair that Julia and mom are the only ones dealing with all those people. Will you come with us?"

"Fine, let's go."

Julia went in ahead, House and Cuddy accompanying old Nana, who walked very slowly.

"Oh, there they are!" Arlene Cuddy said when they walked in the living room. "Lisa, Aunt Helen was just waiting for you before leaving."

"Sorry I kept you, Aunt."

"It's fine, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. We all loved him so much."

Cuddy didn't respond, hugging back her aunt. The rest of the people gradually left as well, providing words of comfort that made old Nana roll her blind eyes and were stoically received by Cuddy. Some shook House's hand, propping him to support his girlfriend on such a difficult time. When only the closest family was still there, it was already late and Julia asked if they wanted to have dinner.

"Just a soup for me," Arlene said.

"Me too," Cuddy agreed.

They ate at the dinner table. No one was really hungry, but the table had a considerable amount of food that people had brought.

"You can eat, if you want, Greg. You don't have to starve for our sake," Arlene said.

"Thank you, Arlene. I'm not very hungry either though."

No one said anything for a while.

"Dad was so excited about going to Maddie's school play… He spent so many hours working on her fairy wings… They fluttered, you know, he connected a little handle to some string to make them flap…" Julia cried.

Cuddy was next to her and hugged her, tears falling down her face as well. It was a brief moment though, before they recomposed themselves and resumed eating their soup.

"It's good that Lisa didn't have to come alone." Arlene spoke when everyone was almost done eating, focusing on House. "I only wished Richard could have met you, he was very curious about Lisa's new boyfriend."

"Mother, please…" Cuddy sighed.

"What? It's just a pity you couldn't bring him two weeks ago, it would have been a much happier occasion. You would have loved to meet him, Greg, he was such a wonderful man."

Cuddy didn't say anything for a few seconds, then put her spoon down abruptly:

"Can't you just keep your snide remarks to yourself for once in your life!"

Arlene looked shocked. Julia tried to calm things down.

"Lisa, Mom meant no harm. We're all just exhausted, that's it."

"How dare you?" finally came Arlene's response.

"Not even today, you can't help throwing your petty little criticism, can you?"

"Lisa!..." Julia once again tried.

"It's true! It's what she always does! I just never thought that even when… that you could be so cold-hearted that-"

"Careful there!" Arlene interrupted Cuddy's jerked speech. "I know you're hurting, we all are, but please stop making up senseless accusations as usual for everyone's sake."

"They're not senseless. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Enough, Lisa. No one knows what you're talking about."

"If you thought I couldn't see right through your words you wouldn't even have said anything."

"I said enough."

Lisa kept her silence now. But someone else didn't.

"You know what, Arlene? She's right. Your husband just died and all you can do is making everyone feel worse. Have you no heart at all?"

"Of course, you had to say something."

"I say whatever I damn want!"

"Nana, mom, please. Let's just… finish our soup and-"

"They banded up against me again! Richard just died and all they care about is-"

"Don't you dare. If Dad was here… You know what, the only reason I even put up with your criticism all these years was Dad: it's a torture to be around you."

"As if you came see us very often!" Arlene scoffed. "You've got some nerve! It grieved him that you'd rather spend Thanksgiving cooked up in your big office than here with us, you know?"

"It's not that big an office. It doesn't even have a balcony like mine-"

"Greg, stay out of this," Cuddy said, turning to her mother after. "I can't believe you're bringing that up! It only happened twice! When I was a resident and they assigned me Thanksgiving, what was I supposed to do? Quit? And four years ago there was an epidemic crisis-"

"You always have excuses. Your father loved you and he didn't let you know how much the little interest you showed for us hurt him, but it did."

"Don't-"

"Why? Aren't we telling truths? I thought that's what you wanted. You think that just because you have your big job you are better than everyone else and we should all accept gratefully what little regard you deign to offer us. You lived with a man for two years before we even met him! Two years! Were we that embarrassing?"

"You know it had nothing to do with that. Jason was always traveling-"

"Always with the excuses. If he was always away, how could you possibly think you could make a relationship work?"

"You're a vicious person. You just had to bring that up."

"Why shouldn't I? It's been almost ten years. Besides you're the one who kicked him out of your life. For how long will you keep it a taboo?"

"It's clearly not a taboo since you mention him every damned time we see each other!"

"Enough you two!" Julia finally yelled. "You're both so wrapped up in your stupid fights that you don't even realize that he was my father too and I'm allowed to grieve in peace without putting up with your yelling!"

This silenced them.

"You're right, Julia," Cuddy said. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

And Cuddy left the room with shaking shoulders and a hand covering her face. Arlene left as well, climbing the stairs to go to her bedroom. She would sleep in her bed alone that night. That had happened before in the past forty years of her marriage, in the rare occasions Richard's job demanded him to attend some conference or treat some patient far away, although he didn't like to leave town much. But this time it would be the first of endless nights spent alone and, oh!, she wasn't used to it for a long time. So she would lie down crying that night, also knowing that her daughter Lisa wouldn't be there the next morning when she woke up.


	20. Fun

**Chapter 20**

House was at Wilson's office. They were mocking their fellow doctors.

"Wanna know the best one?"

"What?" Wilson asked.

"I caught Cameron and Chase doing it in the supplies closet."

"No way!"

"Yep. I had high suspicions, that's why I barged in."

"Does that mean she's finally over you?"

"Hardly doubt it. It'd be a relief though."

"Liar. You like that she's got a thing for you."

"It's annoying!"

"It's also flattering. I don't blame you, who wouldn't like that a young, beautiful, bright woman like Cameron had a crush on him?"

"The kind of people who could have jumped her if they wanted, but didn't."

"But you _wanted_ to jump her."

"You don't think she would've had sex with me? She probably still would right now if I wanted."

"No, you wanted to jump her. She's attractive, how could you not? Problem was, you liked her."

"What? After everything, you still think-"

"No, not that. You didn't like her in a way that made you want to have a relationship with her, but you liked her or even respect her enough to keep you from just jumping her."

"I didn't like her enough to want a relationship with her, but I liked her too much to have sex with her... You know, Wilson, I'm not as complicated as you think I am."

"Ah! That's a good one! Anyway, how's Cuddy holding up?"

"She's fine."

"Yeah? It's been only two weeks, these things take their time… She never told me much about her family, but I always had the impression that she was close to her dad."

"She was."

"I remember when Bonnie lost her mother. She cried every night for months."

"Must have been the happiest phase of your marriage: I'm sure you were delighted to play the compassionate husband and she must have feasted over all the attention she got."

"I'm not a monster like you to be _delighted_ with other people's misery. But what about Cuddy?"

"What about her?"

"I don't know, you tell me. How is she holding up? She's been acting pretty much normally around the hospital, despite not carrying her usual spark."

"He usual spark?"

"You know, she's got that natural glow, especially when she smiles."

"Natural glow?"

"Will you stop repeating my words like that?"

"You have a thing for her!"

"Don't be ridiculous, House."

"You do! Her spark? Her glow? Her smile? You totally got a thing for my girlfriend!"

"Only you would say that with such evil joy. Not that it's true. You're just deflecting."

"What do you want me to say? She's not happily leaping around the house, but she's not crying herself to sleep either."

"Has she cried at all?"

"Of course she cried. At the funeral and when we were at her parent's place."

"And since you came back?"

"No."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Don't you think that's odd?"

"Why? Isn't that why people make funerals and gather the entire family to have a collective catharsis and move on with their lives?"

"From what you told me it was more like a collective breakdown of Cuddy women yelling and throwing forks at each other."

"I might have slightly exaggerated. There wasn't really any throwing."

"I figured."

"It was still the craziest day ever. The funeral was normal; then Cuddy went to the lake leaving me alone with those people in black who all had stories of loved dead ones to share; and at dinner it all went to hell."

"She must be devastated. Her dad dies and she instantly has a major fight with her mother... Most people need that collective catharsis. But for most people it isn't enough. They need to grieve away from all that commotion, in private, where they feel safe."

"There you go then, that's probably what she's doing, grieving in private."

"What do you mean _probably_? She either is or she isn't, you're the one who's with her outside work," Wilson paused, suspicious. "You've been with her, right?"

"You just said it yourself, she needs to grieve in private."

"Private includes the boyfriend! You said she wasn't crying herself to sleep at night, so you have been with her."

"Well, not when I was with her."

"Which was how many times since you're back?"

"The day we came back. The one after that. Then she told me that yes, this had been a hard blow, but she'd be fine, she just needed some space."

"She didn't want to burden you!"

"She doesn't want me hovering over her, trust me. I know her better than you do."

"I'm sure she needs some space, but not that you completely disappear."

"I didn't completely disappear… If she wants me, all she needs to do is ask."

"Even you must sense how bad that sounds."

House sighed.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Just check on her once in a while. You don't need to hover, just make her feel like you're there when she needs you."

"Right…"

* * *

When Cuddy arrived home that evening, after tiresomely agreeing to have dinner with Wilson the next day after much insistence on his part and much patience on hers convincing him that tonight she was too tired for it to be any good, there was a symphony of enticing smells coming from the kitchen. She put the her keys and bag on the hall's cabinet.

"Greg?"

"In here," came the answer from the kitchen.

"I didn't know we were having dinner together."

"We weren't. But I know you're having dinner with Wilson tomorrow and needed to make you remember which one of us has the better cooking skills."

"She made a suspicious, yet laughing face."

"Felt threatened so you decided to up your game?"

"Yup."

"You could've saved the trouble: Wilson's not even cooking, we're going out. You can come too. In fact, come. I don't know if I'm ready for a session with caring and worried Wilson. He's sweet, but it's too…"

"Wilson?"

"Right."

"Well, he may not be cooking, but he's one devious opportunistic bastard: can't be too careful with guys like him."

"Like Wilson? Seriously?"

"The one and only. Always jumping at women in distress."

"Well, I guess I'm safe then," she responded, clearly uninterested. "Wilson wanting to jump me has got to be the most ridiculous thought you've ever had."

"You'd be surprised. With the thoughts I've had… and his."

"God, Greg! Wilson does not want to jump me."

"He's a guy. That being gay attitude? Old trick to get the ladies. Point is, he's a guy: he wants to jump you."

"I'm touched you want me so bad you can't even conceive that someone doesn't, but not every man wants to jump me."

"You're kidding me, right? Men are pigs. They'd have sex with fat, ugly women without a second thought if it didn't come along with any kind of strings or trouble. Trust me, every man wants to screw you."

"What a comforting thought. For you and me both."

"I'm not worried. I don't trust them pigs, but I trust you. I expect you to only want to have sex with me. I mean, tell me a guy who has a cane like mine…" he lifted mirthfully his wooden cane in the air.

"Oh, is that so?" She chuckled. "So, let me get this straight. You, as a man, would, and I'm quoting, have sex with any fat, ugly women without a second thought. I can only imagine what you'd do with beautiful, sexy women. But I'm supposed to desire you and you alone?"

"And my cane! Besides, I'm insulted: I'm not like every other man. I've got standards." He paused, looking straight into her eyes. Then, mockingly: "I'd only screw the beautiful, sexy ones."

She rolled her eyes in a way that she couldn't help be playful. She knew he was just fooling around. To a certain degree…

"Anyways," he continued, "forget about all the other men. Wilson certainly wants to jump you."

"Seriously, that's ridiculous."

"Nope. I'm telling you: he's got a thing for you. You should have heard him this morning talking about your smile and your spark and… what else? Oh, right, your glow."

"Stop. You know I'd never believe that, you're not even trying, you're just annoying me."

"It's true. Your _natural_ glow. Those were his words."

"Greg-"

"Ask him. When he gets all worked up and blushes like a tomato, don't come crying that you don't know what to do about it."

"Right. I'll do just that."

* * *

Dinner had been nice. House had gone to Cuddy's place with the intent of being with her, as Wilson had said, playing down his worry with cheerful nonsense and Cuddy had seemed to be a little bit amused by it, although she ought to know why he was there. But now, sitting on the couch next to her, he couldn't find anything else to say and wondered if he should hint that maybe it was time for him to go, despite not knowing if that was what he should do.

"Maybe it's time for me to go… How will those bright patients in the clinic tomorrow trust my judgement if I don't have my beauty sleep?"

"Okay. I'm tired too."

He did not stand up immediately. It looked like he was going to say something, but ended up not doing so. He had already taken a few steps away from the couch when she spoke.

"Greg… I'm sorry… I know I haven't been… enjoyable to be with… And I appreciate that you came today, and that you're being so patient and respecting that I asked you some time… just to get this through…"

"Sure. You don't need to… explain yourself."

"I know. I just… I know this isn't really… fun for you either."

His answer came perhaps harsher than he intended.

"You think I'm just here for the fun?"

"What? No… I... I'm sorry, that came out wrong, I didn't mean… I just meant that-"

Something inside him cringed over seeing her so put off. He took a few steps closer.

"It's okay. I'm sorry." He sat back on the couch. "I just… This is probably Wilson's fault for giving me these ideas… but I just want to know if you really prefer to get through this all on your own – not that there's really anything that can be done, but... you know… – or if you're doing it because you don't think I'd want to deal with any of this... Or even if you'd rather have someone by your side, you simply don't think I'm the one you want… which I wouldn't blame you for… I'm not exactly the role model for giving solace and _everything's gonna be okay_ speeches."

"I'm… sorry I made you feel that way… Greg…" Cuddy grabbed his left hand. "I don't really know how to react… It was so sudden and… I… I don't know how long it'll take to… I'm sure it's bound not to feel so bad after a time… but it feels like I keep missing him more and more and it's just getting worse and…"

Her eyes became red and glassy as she spoke and she started to remove her hand from his, possibly to wipe some unshed tears, but he didn't let her, pulling her to him instead and embracing her. She put her other hand on his chest in what he thought was maybe a way to pull away from him, but if it was meant to be that, it changed quickly, because she put her head on his chest, almost as if hiding herself in it. He felt her shoulders and her entire torso shake as he rubbed her back and arms and tears wet his shirt.

"It's okay."

How funny that he above all people was giving such cliché meaningless solace words as _it's okay_. In reality, they weren't meaningless or fake in their case. It was not her father's death that he was addressing or even the fact that shewould be okay in spite of such event. Rather that it was okay not to know how long it would take until it started to feel better. He wasn't going anywhere.

"It's okay."


	21. Do you believe in miracles?

**Well, my friends, it's been a while since I updated only a week after the last chapter... I know, I know, I'm abusing of your patience and I'm afraid I won't be able to do much better in the future, but hey, I spent Worker's Day revising and finishing this for you guys!...**

 **This one is a particularly dear chapter to me, I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Also, I don't know anything about medicine, I don't even try. I figure spending hours researching would not a doctor out of me make and I'd probably screw up way more if I had the pretense of thinking I knew what I was talking about. So, I stick to the bare minimum, just for the sake of being able to write a scene that is happening between a patient and his doctors or maybe between a doctor and his boss who thinks a different course of treatment is mandatory... I certainly wouldn't like that such minimum had mistakes, so I try my best that what I'm writing is both possible and reasonable. That is the lengh of my wish and abilities.**

* * *

 **Chapter 21**

In the differential room, House's amused eyes were turning from Chase to Cameron and from Cameron to Chase like he was watching a tennis match.

"It's got to be in his brain. If it were the spine he wouldn't be able to move his torso at all."

"He isn't. He was hysterically moving his head and neck, it's normal that the rest of his body shook, it's not like he controlled it."

"House said the movement was up and down, he was moving his head sideways!"

"We asked him to move his torso and he couldn't do anything."

"Maybe the bleeding in his brain spread to-"

"What bleeding? The was nothing in his MRI."

"There was some-"

"Nothing conclusive. He's a baseball player, it ought to be spinal cord lesion caused by trauma."

"That presented itself suddenly when he was at home?"

"Maybe it's autoimmune. Maybe his nerves are being eating by-"

"Of course, it had to end up in autoimmune!"

"Won't you tell them to shut up?" Foreman asked House.

"Are you kidding me? This is better than General Hospital."

"Last week you were complaining that we were agreeing to everything. Now we can't disagree?" Cameron asked.

"Oh, goody! You are just so cute all worked up!"

Both Chase and Cameron rolled their eyes.

* * *

House walked in Cuddy's office, not bothering to knock at her door.

"You should see Chase and Cameron. It's like two cute bunnies throwing carrots at each other."

Cuddy gave a small smile, but she clearly had her mind elsewhere. He sat in front of her desk.

"What's up?"

"Just talked to my mother on the phone. Julia had been nagging me about how depressed she's been. She asked me to sort things out with her, make peace."

"And did you?"

"Yeah, I think we did. Apparently, my mother thinks I deceive and lie to her all the time. So we agreed to always tell each other the truth when asked directly."

"That's… good."

"It's awfully formal for a mother-daughter relationship, but it is what it is. At least it gave her some reassurance, I think. But tell me… what's up with Chase and Cameron?"

"You mean, you didn't already know? They're not sleeping with each other again. It's battle camp out there! They're the living proof that when you start having sex, you should never stop. I mean never."

"Well, can't argue with that. What happened?"

"Apparently, Chase told her he wanted more than just sex… What an idiot!"

"Right? Who'd do that?"

They smiled knowingly at each other.

"So, he really likes her. Do you think she likes him too?"

"Odds are she doesn't, what with refusing him and everything."

"Maybe she's just scared."

"Could be. Of course, she was pretty straight forward regarding having a relationship with me. And I don't think that between Chase and me he's the scariest one."

"You think she still likes you?"

"Can anyone really stop liking me?"

"Do you want her to still like you?"

"What?"

"I'm not jealous or anything. I understand it's flattering to have a girl like Cameron with a crush on you. Can't blame her either. – Cuddy winked. – Anyway, how's your patient?"

"Same. Can't move anything below his neck. We're waiting for results."

"You made more tests?"

"Sort of…"

"You started him on random treatments, didn't you?"

"Of course not, that would be irresponsible."

"Look, the last thing this hospital needs, is for you to kill Johnny Roscoe."

"The Nation would appreciate it."

"I wouldn't. If you kill the Yankees best player, I swear, I won't just fire you, I'll kill you in your sleep."

In that moment, Foreman walked in.

"Patient started to bleed through his nose. Treatment's making him worse."

"Gotta go."

"What do you think this means?" Cuddy asked, with House already on his feet.

"Can't have ideas when you're around. Don't know if it's the blouse or your infectious administrative caution."

"Keep an eye on him, Foreman. I'm trusting you to be the responsible one."

As House and Foreman were heading toward the elevator, the latter asked:

"You can't always be that nasty to her. There's no way she'd put up with you." He made an amused, condescending smile. "You're a real softy when it's just the two of you, aren't you?"

"I'm never soft. What can I say, women like it rough."

Foreman was going to roll his eyes at the sexual innuendo. But realized that the deflecting defensive nature of his boss's response was somehow sweet. He smiled a bit to himself, thinking what an odd world it was, in which he was thinking that Gregory House was sweet.

* * *

Cuddy's warning to Foreman had been like a foresight. House had excluded every diagnosis up until two possible options. It was either vertebrobasilar insufficiency or brain bleeding. Only the latter had a possibility of being treated, but it would require a life-threatening brain surgery to fix a swelling that had shown neither in the MRI nor the CT scan. House wanted the surgery. Foreman wanted to advise the patient to do nothing because the risks were too high and there was no evidence of there being anything on his brain. Chase had not shared his thoughts on the matter.

Cameron's position, on the other hand, was crystal clear:

"It's not our choice to make. We should present the options to the patient and his wife and let them decide."

"They're not doctors."

"They're not diagnosing or making up treatments. We tell them what happens if we do the surgery, tell them the odds and then there's nothing else we can really do."

"That's just you wanting to wash your hands. These people will do whatever we tell them to. If you think you're doing them a favor by putting the weight of making that decision on them you're wrong. You're just being coward."

"And you just want to play God." Chase spoke.

"Oh, great! You've spent the entire day bitching at her and now you decide to act like her knight in shining armor! I thought you were on my side!"

"And since then, everything has pointed to his brain being clear."

House looked away from Chase, turning his attention to Cameron again.

"Present them the odds, Cameron?"

"What's wrong with the odds?" It was Foreman who spoke.

"What's wrong is that it's the odds of everyone in the damned country for the last God-knows how many years. It's not the patient's odds. It doesn't account for the way he reacted to the food-"

"That isn't even a symptom!" Cameron exclaimed.

"Of course it is! Just because it's not a symptom caused by the disease you think he has doesn't mean it's not a symptom!"

"You just want to take the dangerous route so that, in the slight chance you're right, you get to feel like you've beaten the odds and that you're better than everyone else, saving the famous baseball player!" Cameron concluded.

"You're all being awfully protesting. I'd be proud if you weren't also being so dumb. Give her option two treatment."

"House-"

"We're not discussing anymore. Decision's made. Foreman, Cameron, you start the treatment. Chase, go tell the patient."

* * *

Cameron wanted to go to Cuddy, but Foreman said there would be no point, she'd do what House wanted anyway.

"That's not true. She's overruled him before. Even since they're dating."

"When we're in the beginning of the diagnosis, giving the patient the first treatments to get a response out of him. Not when it's the final decision."

"I'm going to talk to her anyway."

"Fine."

They explained Cuddy the situation and she went to House's office with the two members of his team behind her.

"You had to run to mommy, didn't you?"

"House, this isn't a game. There's nothing that justifies doing brain surgery. We can't even present him as an option, however slim, because there's absolutely nothing backing it up!"

House tried to argue, but Cuddy didn't fold.

"I've made my decision. Tell the patient he's got vertebrobasilar insufficiency."

And she turned to leave. But he grabbed her hand, not getting up from his chair and said, looking straight in her eyes:

"I know I'm right. Please. Lisa."

Foreman and Cameron exchanged a look. They were involuntarily experiencing an intimate moment created by House suddenly. Cuddy's features softened and she put her other hand on top of House's, holding it with both of hers.

"I know you think you are. But I can't let you do this. I'm sorry."

He removed his hand and shook his head up and down.

"Fine. Don't come cry on my shoulder because you killed him later."

She shook her head angrily and left.

"Come on. It's time to go see the patient."

* * *

"Who are you?" Johnny Roscoe asked.

"Greg House. I'm your doctor."

"How come you only came see me now?"

"Up until now all I needed from you was your symptoms. Now is the time I need your sensible judgement."

"House, don't-"

"Dr. Foreman, let me talk to my patient. Mr. Roscoe, some members of my team wanted to treat you without presenting you all your options…" Cameron looked at him, as if asking, _Seriously?_ "But I believe that patients should make their own decisions. So here's the deal. We think you either have a brain bleeding or vertebrobasilar insufficiency. If it's vertebrobasilar insufficiency, you'll be like that for the rest of your life. If it is brain bleeding we can operate to reduce the swelling and you might recover most and maybe even all of your limb functions. So the hard decision you have to make," he concluded sarcastically, "is whether you want the surgery or not."

Foreman intervened.

"Doctor House has a very optimistic nature, but it is our duty to inform you about the risks a brain surgery has. For starters, we don't even know exactly where to look for a bleeding or a swelling, because nothing conclusive came out in the scans we made. So maybe you'd be having a very risky operation, that could leave you with brain damage-"

"He already has-"

"-with brain damage that prevented you to talk, eat, or even think normally ever again. There is also a considerable chance of death, considering the area of your brain in which we'd be operating."

"My God!" Roscoe's wife said. Tears were falling down her face. "Johnny, it's too dangerous!"

"Great now you've made the wife cry, you idiot!" House whined.

"They have a right to know. He can't take all these risks for almost nothing!"

"Almost nothing?" House asked.

"Yes! There's what? Three, two percent chance it's in his brain! You think that's worth risking his life?"

"It's three percent chance he's not spending the rest of his life attached to a chair! You think he wants to spend the rest of his life having his mouth cleaned by someone else when he eats. His nose cleaned by someone else. His ass wiped by-"

"Hey! We're still here!" the wife protested.

"See? She can't even _think_ about it, how will she _do_ it, when all the money he's made in his very long career of four years in professional baseball is spent in five or so years of a permanent nurse by his side?"

"How dare you?" the wife said.

Roscoe lost his patience too.

"Get out! All of you! I've never seen doctors treat their patients with such disrespect! Out now!"

They left.

"I can't believe this," Foreman said after they had left. "Three percent chance means there's ninety seven percent chance that you're risking his life for nothing. Rules and statistics exist because most of the times they lead to the right diagnosis, the right treatment. We follow them because they save lives."

"Except that your ninety-seven percentage leads to a treatment that… Oh wait, it leads you to NO treatment at all! So there's really no saving there, is it?"

"You're not thinking as a doctor. You don't care about the odds or what is the right medical decision."

"You just want to save the day, be the hero who got him his arms and legs back!" Cameron added.

"Right, I'm all about the fame."

"You are. You act like you don't care about what other people think of you, but you like standing out, you like-"

"Shut up! House took a menacing step toward her. "Who do you think you are phyco-analyzing me? You couldn't phyco-analyze a goat if you tried!"

House walked away. They went to the differential room, waiting for Cuddy's inevitable summon. When it came, she had already apologized to the patient and his wife. She chastised them for not having the sense to avoid arguing with House in front of the patient.

"What were we supposed to do? Let him convince the patient to do a surgery that'll probably kill him and doesn't even have a chance of curing him?"

"Enough, Foreman. I have to go deal with the press. Again. Find House and tell him to come to my office immediately. And where is Chase?"

"No idea. Haven't seen him for the last couple of hours."

"Alright. In fact, never mind House, go home. I'll talk to him when I see him."

* * *

Chase had been looking at the CT scan and the MRI for hours, trying to find something that could resemble anything House wanted to be there. He found nothing. It was late in the evening. Chase went to the patient's room.

"Mrs. Roscoe, could I have a moment with your husband?"

"You can tell me anything. Have you found anything new?"

"I just need Mr. Roscoe to sign the papers stating he doesn't want brain surgery. You know, it's just a formality, but the protocol says no one should be there, so that the decision of the patient isn't influenced."

"Oh… Alright."

She kissed her husband's forehead and left the room.

"I didn't even know people need to sign paper about surgeries they're not having."

"They don't. I just needed to talk to you alone."

Roscoe became suspicious. Everyone in this hospital seemed crazy.

"What for?

"Just talk. I've been looking at your MRI for hours, you know?"

"And? You saw something?"

"No. Do you want to do the sugery?"

"What are you talking about? If you saw something that allowed me to have surgery, have a chance of not being an unmovable piece of shit for the rest of my life, of course I do."

"What if you could do the surgery anyway? I mean, regardless of what I saw or didn't see in your MRI?... Chances aren't good, but… I don't know, if I were you, I don't know what I'd prefer…"

Roscoe looked down.

"I don't either. I mean... When that doctor was saying how bad the chances were if I did the surgery… This is going to sound horrible…"

"Of course not. Not anymore than what you're already going through."

"I almost wish I could… do the surgery anyway and if it didn't work… I could die right there, you know? 'Cause later… even if I wanted… I will never be able to… do it myself..." He laughed derisively. "How fucked up is that?"

Chase felt tears gathering in his eyes. He put a hand on Roscoe's arm. "It's not fucked up at all."

"You know, I can't feel that… Your hand…" Roscoe's eyes travelled down in the direction of Chase's hand, which held his arm. The baseball player started to cry.

Chase hugged him tightly. When Roscoe's crying subsided, Chase let go of him and asked:

"There could be something in your MRI."

"What? You mean-"

"I could go look into your MRI again and it would be there. A small dot, so small no wonder everyone missed it. But enough to make us reconsider the chances of a blood clot... But only if you want it."

"And surgery?"

"It would still be a high-risk procedure. Possibly Dr. Foreman would still advise you against it. But it would be your decision."

"You… You'd do that?"

Chase nodded.

"If that's what you want."

Roscoe nodded in return.

"Are you sure?"

"I am. More than ever."

Chase nodded again and left the room.

* * *

Chase announced that he'd discovered a tiny dot that everyone had apparently missed in Roscoe's MRI. It could still be nothing, but it was sufficient to make Cuddy authorize them a second MRI.

"Chase, you do the MRI. Cameron, you have overdue clinic duty to attend."

"I do not."

"My overdue clinic duty, remember?"

"I already did that and you didn't even put me in charge of a case yet."

"I'm doing it now. I'm putting you in charge of all my clinic cases."

"I can't believe-"

"Go. You're getting incredibly complaining ever since Chase stopped showing you the goodies. I hope he hasn't ruined you for life."

She rolled her eyes and went to the clinic.

"What about me?" Foreman asked. "Shouldn't I go with Chase?"

"No. I have a case for you."

"A case?"

"Yes, a case."

House threw him a file.

"Broken ribs, fractured skull… This was a car accident."

"Amnesia."

"I'm guessing it's because of the fractured skull!..."

"You're guessing wrong: amnesia started one month after the crash. Whatever causes amnesia and sudden loss of vision, which the patient said was what made her lose control of the car, is what you're looking for."

"What _I_ 'm looking for?"

"Yes, it's your case."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you think you're big enough to overrule me, think by your own allegedly brighter mind than mine: you be in charge this time, prove that you don't need me to diagnose that patient."

"I never alleged any-"

"Prove to me that you can make your own decisions, from beginning to the end and save the patient. Never mind the fact that the first and only decision you've made thus far, of whether you should accept the case or patch it up as a car crash and send the poor woman home, was the wrong one."

Chase went to his business, as House and Foreman began their game.

* * *

The second MRI showed the same dot, however small, and it could still be nothing, but surgery appeared now as a more reasonable option. Roscoe agreed, despite his wife's fears, and so did Cuddy.

Foreman took a pause from his new case to perform the surgery on Johnny Roscoe with Chase. House, Cuddy, Cameron and Wilson were in the observation room. Some other doctors were there as well.

"My god, I can't believe Johnny Roscoe can become tetraplegic," someone said.

"That's what he is now. What he can, is become normal again." House responded.

"Or die," Cuddy said.

"I thought you were more confidant now."

"It's a dot so small it can be just an image pixel. It's probably still nothing."

"But you agreed to this."

She shrugged.

"The patient wants it and it's not completely unjustifiable now toward the Ethics Committee – she responded, seemingly detached. Both House and Wilson knew better. It was hooking at her guts."

Foreman was approaching the area where the dot should be. Nothing was there. Chase just told him to look around. It could have moved. Foreman looked around for long minutes, but still found nothing.

"Keep going," Chase said.

"There's no way it would have moved so far in two hours. It was probably nothing."

"Do it, Foreman," Chase insisted.

"It'll kill him."

"Come on, we've come this far," Chase pleaded.

House touched the intercommunicator.

"Do it, Foreman."

Foreman looked at him in disbelief.

"This one isn't your case for you to make your own decisions."

"It's my decision not to kill this patient because you're too curious or-"

"It's not about my whims, it's what the patient wants. Do it!" House's tone was final, but Foreman wouldn't let go.

"He wants to get better, not die!"

Chase looked up at House who looked at him in turn. Cuddy saw their exchange and her breath got caught in her throat for a moment. She faced House, who did not avert his gaze. His eyes seemed bigger than ever and she felt as if they carried the secret of Life itself. But they were pleading. She pressed the intercommunicator button.

"Keep going, Foreman. I trust you to be careful and avoid causing damage."

Foreman looked bewildered for a moment upon hearing Cuddy's order. Then he focused on the lens and the brain he was operating again and kept going.

"His BP is going down."

"What happened?" someone in the OR asked.

"Damn it" Foreman cursed. "That's it, I'm getting out."

"Wait!" Chase yelled. "Look, to your left! Look!"

Foreman saw the tiny dark red clot and couldn't help exclaiming:

"Damn! It's really there!"

"BP is still going down."

"Crap. I need to relieve the pressure."

Foreman moved a bit back and the patient's BP started to normalize.

"Okay. Now let's go get the son of a bitch," he said.

* * *

Foreman caught the clot. Roscoe would regain complete mobility after a few weeks of physical therapy. The press went nuts over PPTH and its diagnostics department which had saved Johnny Roscoe's promising career in MBL. Articles about House's brilliancy and innovative methods, about the young female Dean of Medicine that made it possible for such a department to exist, the Australian doctor who had discovered the clot, the neuro-surgeon that had performed the epic surgery, were being written in almost every newspaper of the East Coast.

Cuddy had therefore been overwhelmed with praise by the press, her peers and many, many donors, fans of the Yankees. For the next three days she only had time to congratulate the team _en passant_ , Foreman in particular for the excellent performance in the OR. He was in need of compliments, that not even good press could fully satisfy, since being in charge of the car crash case had been a fiasco: he had been obliged to ask House for help, who apparently knew the answer from the beginning, having noticed a particular twitch of the leg that the patient had from time to time: a myoclonic jerk.

The press was still in the lobby on the fourth day. They wanted to get coverage of Roscoe's first physical therapy session. Chase was trying to go to the elevator, but journalists kept trying to ask him questions, _Do you think Roscoe's case was career-changing? How does it feel to have saved the life of America's next best baseball player?_ , and more of the sort. He kept walking without answering and called the elevator. As he walked in, Cuddy entered too. She nodded in greeting and so did he. A nurse was about to enter as well, but Cuddy asked her to go grab a file from Nurse Jenkins had for her and give it to her assistant before going up. The nurse did as she was told. The doors closed and the elevator started going up.

"These press guys, huh? They just can't let go," Cuddy commented.

"Yeah."

Then Cuddy pressed the stop button. Chase looked at her both with surprise and fear.

"This time it's the press, next time it will be the police," she looked straight into his eyes.

Chase gulped and nodded. But Cuddy shook her head in dismay.

"Don't nod, you idiot. There will be no next time. Do you understand?"

Chase tried to speak, but her throat was suddenly dry. He tried again:

"I do."

"Good."

She touched the red button again and the elevator started to move again.

"How did you know? Did House-"

"A good start for there being no next time is to never speak about his again, Dr. Chase."

"Of course. You're right. Of course, Dr. Cuddy."

The doors opened and she left first. Chase took a deep breath and went to the differential room.

* * *

When Cuddy arrived home that evening, House was sitting by her porch.

"What are you doing there? The key got lost under the rug?"

"Didn't know if you'd want me to get in."

"Since when has that stop you? Don't play the embarrassed little boy who screwed up, Greg."

They entered her place. She went to the bedroom to change clothes and put some pre-made food in the microwave.

"So… Chase came out of your little elevator trap paler than a snow flake."

"Funny that you bring that up. I thought you were avoiding me. Because of this exact subject."

"Well, can't avoid it forever, can I?"

"No, you can't. And your little power-play with Foreman neither. You can't know a person's diagnosis and not tell her and treat her! It's sadistic to leave someone on hold like that. Make her go through unnecessary exams and treatments. Not to mention it could go wrong: you could have been wrong and discover only after starting the real treatment and then have little time left to cure her."

"It would only be sadistic if I'd take any pleasure in the patient's discomfort. I did it to teach Foreman."

"Don't! Don't play with words right now. I'm not… in the mood to have a battle of wits. Actually, I just really wanna punch you, that's the state you put me in."

She put the heated food on two plates and put them on the kitchen counter.

"You wanna punch me, but you're giving me food?"

She didn't answer. Instead she started to eat her dinner. He sighed.

"You could have stopped it. Any of those things. You chose to kept the surgery going. Why?"

"I don't know. When Chase looked at you… I realized… How couldn't I have seen it sooner? You'd never miss a dot like that in an MRI, and then you sent Chase alone to do the second one…"

House shook his head.

"You do know why. You just don't want to admit it."

"Fine, I didn't want the kid to wake up and realize he'd spend the rest of his life tetraplegic. But… I had no right! It was a complete shot in the dark. It was a shot in the dark with the freaking dot on the picture! Without it… It was suicide… murder!"

"It's what he wanted so… suicide. Assisted suicide, you can say."

"God, doesn't this sicken you to your guts? To think that-"

"No. We did what's right. That's why you did it. Because it was right. He had the right to choose. To choose between the certainty of a life he'd hate, without baseball, completely dependent on others, and a chance of a real life, however slim."

"Slim? There was nothing backing it up!"

"Of course, there was. I knew there was! I saw him move his belly! I was sure I was right! And I was!"

"You couldn't possibly be sure of something that was so unbelievably improbable. But you sure would do anything to prove you were, however slim the chance was."

"But I was right. Don't scoff. It's not luck or… You don't get to be right as much as I am just by being lucky."

"I know. But you can't… perform miracles."

"I know that."

"I don't think I do." This took House by surprise. "I backed you up because I trust you… more than that, I expect you to be the hero and save the day when no one else could. I shouldn't. It's got more to do with faith than reason and it's wrong."

"It is. But I think you're making a little bit of revisionist history. You don't always back me up. In fact, I could make an excruciatingly long list of times you chose what you call reason over my sound medical advice."

She smiled at this. But it was still a sad smile. They had finished eating and as she washed the dishes she asked:

"And when we kill someone? Like that math teacher… Remember him?"

"Of course, I remember him. I guess I'll cope the way I did then: spending a week drinking booze and sleeping with hookers. Except instead of hookers I'd sleep with you. Except you bury yourself in administrative work when something like that happens, convincing yourself for a couple of weeks that's all you're good for and running away from any real medical decision. So I guess I'd still need the hookers."

"Do you…"

"What?"

"It's nothing. Forget it."

They went to the living room and sat on the couch.

"Spill it. I think we've covered plenty uncomfortable issues tonight. What's one more?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised… Okay… When we don't have much… sex…" House frowned, "I suppose you still have your urges…"

"With you so far…" _What is about to come?_ , he wondered, _Never mention hookers to the girlfriend_ , he chastised himself.

"Are they… regarding mostly me or… because, you know, you're deprived, they're pretty much general…"

"As if I'm gonna explode if I don't stick it in any hole?"

"Forget it. I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

"Of course, it's mostly about you. Always, but especially when we are not having any. The almost bit is because as a man, I'm biologically uncappable of not responding to certain triggers, like that big ad by the highway entrance with that super model in lingerie."

"Okay, thank you. For your answer and… honesty."

"Sure. I suppose we should be able to talk about these things. It would kinda suck if we couldn't."

"Right."

"Lisa… You don't have to worry. I get it. I obviously want that, but I like you for more than that and I like you despite your guilt-ridden self-deprivation of pleasure."

"Guilt-ridden?"

"You're still trying to cope with your dad's death. You feel guilty to be in a world where he isn't and you're screaming at God for _please more_."

She couldn't help her chuckle, despite the immense sadness that could be perceive through it. He loved that little chuckle, so sad, strong and vulnerable. Hers. A tear escaped from her eye. He cleaned with his thumb and caressed her cheek.

"But like I said, you don't have to worry."

She looked up at him and there was so much love in his eyes. They had been such exhausting days and she missed him. She too caressed his cheek. Her face approached his and her lips kissed his. Softly. She pulled only a bit back to say:

"I love you."

They kissed again, still gently, but this time it was a longer kiss and their tongues intertwined. Then she brought him closer to her, deepening the kiss, one of her hands in the back of his neck, the other one on the space between his collarbone and his neck. The hand that had wiped her tear was lost in her hair and his other one was on her waist. She grabbed that hand and lead it to underneath her sweater. Not satisfied she pulled back to take it off completely. Now she only had a short top with no bra, because she didn't like using a bra at home. She started to unbutton his shirt.

"You sure?"

She nodded and kissed him, before continuing to undress him. After she finished removing his undershirt and releasing his jeans from the belt to pull them down, she took her own pants and straddled him, now only wearing her panties and her top. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, the upper part of her breast and rubbed her sex.

"God, you're so wet."

"I want you."

That did it for him. His patience coming to an end, needing it so much he was almost unable to enjoy it. He slid her top out of her and went directly to her left nipple. She gasped as he sucked, but hold on to his head and shoulders, pulling him closer if that was possible. They started rocking themselves, needing the friction. She went up with her knees on the couch to remove her panties and he did not hesitate, he dove for her. He licked her folds. He sucked on her bud.

"Oh, God! Oh, my... Oh..."

It would not take much longer for her to come when he stopped sucking, to pull her down by the waist where his hands were holding her. She gasped, first at the loss of stimulation, then at the sudden movement. He entered her and she gasped again, crying her orgasm away at the third thrust. His came after only a few more. He gave little pecks on her shoulder, not fully recovered, while she rubbed his neck, holding him tightly.


	22. Rich

**This one uses lines from Forever (2x22) and Act Your Age (3x19). I'm sure you'll spot them. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

 **Chapter 22**

Cuddy and Chase were at the former's office.

"I thought I'd been clear. Johnny Roscoe's case is done and forgotten. He got cured, I stopped an elevator, end of story."

"This isn't about that."

"What is it about then?"

Chase did not answer.

"For God's sake, Chase! Now you decide to question things? Let me guess, you've realized House's toxic influence is what made you _save_ Roscoe's mobility, albeit through controversial ways, so you're trying to find yourself again?"

"Isn't it? Isn't it toxic? Don't you question yourself? What if he had died? Would it still had been the right choice?"

"One thing at least House is right about: whether a choice like that is right or wrong doesn't change because of the outcome. It was the right choice. For Roscoe. Which is the only thing that matters."

She sighed. Chase shrugged.

"Anyway, I told you it's not about that."

"Then why do you want to get away from him?"

"Not just him…"

"Cameron?"

"Not just her… It's everything. Look, it's just for a while. One month down at the NICU."

She sighed.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

* * *

"NICU is short-staffed."

"Have you suddenly lost the ability to lie? Nobody's quit NICU in two years. And if you're making up reasons, that means there is no reason. Which means he asked for the assignment, didn't he?" House insisted.

Cuddy did not correct him.

"If Chase needs a break from you, he should take it."

"Absolutely."

* * *

One of Chase's baby patients was sick with an unknown condition. Chase decided it was time to take the case to House. Foreman did not agree.

"You don't need to go run to House because your first diagnosis attempt wasn't right. When did House get anything right at first?"

"It wasn't my first. And it was stupid and put her life in danger for nothing."

"I'll help you."

"Wasn't it just last week that you tried to solve a case without House and didn't succeed?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you. We were doctors before starting to work for House and we'll be doctors after we leave him. We can't depend on him for everything. I thought this was part of the reason you were taking this break. House… he sucks the confidence out of us."

"I sincerely admire your trying to get your mojo back, but I was never afraid I'd lost mine in the first place. We need House. It's not like he doesn't need us either."

* * *

"Boy, this is interesting!" House exclaimed.

"What?"

"This bank account report."

"Of the baby's parents? Why would you-"

"Not them. Of your boyfriend, of course."

Cameron rolled her eyes.

"You got my bank accounts? I'm pretty sure that's a crime." Chase fumed.

"Some pretty interesting expenses here. Expensive expenses."

"It's none of your business."

"I also have here your paycheck. You've been double-dipping. Taking your vacation time here while drawing a salary in NICU. Strange: rich boy doing all that for some extra cash."

Chase tried to grab it from House but House pulled it out of his reach.

"I'm not rich."

"But your dad was; he died last year. If you're not rich that means daddy cut you out."

He gave Chase the papers.

"I'm not rich."

"Don't let it change you."

* * *

Cameron joined Chase at a table in the cafeteria. After a few seconds of small talk, she shot:

"I actually thought you could be at the NICU because of me."

"Sorry if you felt guilty about that. There's no reason for you to be."

"Right… You know, this is gonna sound petty and ridiculous, but… I actually felt kind of disappointed that you weren't."

Chase gave her his charming boyish smile.

"Of course you were, you like me."

"Chase, no…"

"You do."

"Not like that. I shouldn't have said anything. And I didn't realize you were going to get hurt with this whole thing. I'm sorry I misled you."

"You didn't. You have feelings for me. You come back to me again and again."

"For sex. It's a simple, physical... And I'll admit it's hard not to be flattered by all your attention."

"C'mon, you have feelings for puppies and patients that you barely know, but when it comes to a guy that you've worked with for 3 years? – Chase took her hand. – Had sex with, spent the night with, you're telling me you feel nothing? Absolutely nothing?"

They shared gazes, but were abruptly interrupted by House.

"Time end this lovely moment! Patient can't breathe."

* * *

Time was running and they couldn't come up with any good ideas. House was bouncing his balls in the air, Foreman and Cameron were in the lab, Chase was checking on the baby. Cuddy walked in.

"Any changes?" she asked.

"No. He's stable now."

"Good. I'm on my lunch break, thought I'd check on her…"

"Yeah."

Cuddy approached the tiny box. She grabbed the baby girl's foot through the incubator's hole.

"She's so small… She's already fought so much for her life…" Cuddy commented in a sad tone.

"She'll fight more."

Cuddy looked at him.

"You think?"

"I do."

"I hope you're right."

They stood quietly looking at the baby for a minute.

"I'm sorry being away from House ended up in him giving you more crap. Going through your bank account… it was inexcusable."

"It's fine. I mean, it's not, but we all know what he's like. I guess it should all be worth it: working with him, learning from him."

He gave her na adorably mischievous smile:

"I can't imagine what could possibly be worth dating him though."

She laughed.

"He has his moments…"

Chase nodded.

"I thought you'd be mad that I'm double-dipping. When I'm not even really needed at the NICU."

"And since you're rich."

"I'm not rich."

"It's none of my business, Chase. Whether you wanted a break from House, from Cameron, hell!, from Foreman!…" Chase smiled, "...or you felt you needed to prove something to yourself, my job is to make sure my doctors have everything they need as long as they keep doing their jobs right."

Chase nodded again.

"I was always the rich boy with the pretty smile who went surfing and all the girls cheered for. I'm not gonna say I hated that. I liked spending hundreds at parties. I liked having the girls." Cuddy gave him an amused look. "But I did fail to understand why would anyone think that it all came easily, at no cost. Everybody thought the same about my mom. She practically never worked, married my dad right after college and that's it. Everybody saw her as the pretty wife of the famous doctor who didn't realize how good she had it. Depression, alcoholism. All just because she was a spoiled brat who was impossible to satisfy. It's what my father thought too. Maybe they were right. But all I've ever felt from her was love. While he threw his money at us and left. At some point, he wanted to take me with him, but I couldn't leave her. She wasn't just a spoiled depressing wife or a former cheerleader to me. She was my mother. And yet... He never failed to give us the money on the first day of every month. And he was nothing if not generous about the sums. But she would spend days calling him for more. Sending him letters. Threatening to hurt herself. Actually hurting herself." His voice broke slightly before he inhaled and recovered. "Sure, she spent a lot on booze, especially in the end, but… I never understood if it was her way of getting back at him or if she really was just a spoiled girl who never grew up… So this inheritance… His money… I don't want it, I'd like to just reject it and get it over with, but… More than some meaningless rebellion against him, it would be like... a judgmental slap on my mom's face…"

His breath quickened at the last words and he covered his eyes with his hand. Cuddy hugged him.

"Robert, you're not a spoiled brat. You certainly don't have to let House treat you like his whipping dog to prove that you're not. You're a good doctor. A great doctor. And a good person."

Chase smiled, wiping his face with his sleeve after they parted.

"Thanks. I guess you weren't really thinking about playing confessor when you said your job is to make sure your doctors have everything they need."

"You'd be surprised with what people tell me. Especially when they're getting fired. One minute they're spilling their childhood traumas to me, the next one they're threatening to sue."

"I think I'd more easily sue House."

They laughed.

"He's a very lucky man. I hope he realizes it."

"Thank you."

* * *

In the end, House discovered what was wrong with the child. They treated her and everyone was there when the parents were able to hold their child in their arms again: House, his team, Cuddy and even Wilson had stopped by: it was always a good thing to witness and he had just lost another patient to cancer. Everyone looked happy for the family, except House who was looking at Cuddy instead, seeing a sad longing smile that could only mean one thing. Something that terrified him.

* * *

 **Last week I decided to do something that I've wanted for a long time, but had not had the patience to... Give titles to each chapter. So, that's done!**

 **I know exactly the path I want this story to take, but I must confess that I have been struggling with the precise way to get there: it's not even so much about the "how" (that is very clear to me too), it's rather about the timing of everything. Do I make this happen right now? Or should I wait until after that?... That sort of questions. Of course, every plan I make goes to hell when the characters gain their own life during a dialog, especially if they are fighting. It has happened that a moment of exchange of normal or even sweet words has turned into a fight, because - however unintentionally - I felt that what a character said somehow pricked the interlocutor. And then the interlocutor takes charge and it doesn't matter how much I try to calm them down: they go off track.**

 **All this talk to give you the big news: this is the last chapter of PART TWO! Yay!... Or not, you tell. I feel that we have now come to a point where we have addressed many issues, but only in a way that possibly only served to see them boiling up later on, and what happens in this chapter gives us a good starting point for PART THREE. The real bad news is that, this time, the next part will take longer to be posted, as I am positively swamped at work and will continue to be in the next few months. Plus, I have basically nothing actually written for the following chapters, only loose pieces.**

 **So, I look forward to see you in a while and I mantain my commitment: I may take longer than I ought to, but I will come back.**


	23. Running in circles

**Why, hello, guys!**

 **Once again, I appear before you after a great delay... And owing you another big apology! I was hoping to have been able to post something on September, but - alas! - I'm afraid you're starting to get to know all about my bad habits.**

 **In return (small return, I know), I finally adapted all the chapters in regards to the use of quotation marks instead of dashes to identify direct speach. I did it because 1) I know that most readers are from English-speaking countries and have, therefore, a hard time with the dashes and 2) I realized I actually like to use dashes in the middle of sentences to signal sidenotes or similar uses, including _inside_ direct speach... So, I decided to change that writing method. I'm sorry the previous chapters were changed accordingly in the middle of the run, but I hope it will be better for you as well. I took the opportuinity to fix some minor bugs I came across, like missing comas, etc.**

 **Anyway, this chapter -** **the first from PART THREE - is called "Running in circles" because fears and conflicts that have already been addressed (in the beginning of PART TWO), but not resolved, arise again. However, because history does not repeat itself, the ride around the circle will not lead us to the exact same spot but to somewhere differente, wherever that may be. In my view, history - whether individual or colectivelly - is more like a spiral: even when you go around along the path to the left or to the right you had already traced, you end up somewhere that is either above or below the point you had previously passed. Let us see where our characters will end up, shall we? For now, at least, as there is much more to come.**

 **This chapter uses a quote from 'Honeymoon' (1x22). I'm sure you'll find it.**

* * *

 **PART THREE**

 **Chapter 23**

House and Cuddy were not currently speaking with each other, following a fight over dirty dishes. Indeed, one day after work, House had gone to Cuddy's home and she had made dinner for them. She was not feeling well since the afternoon, probably due to the chicken sandwich she had for lunch at almost four p.m. which did not sit well with her stomach. Uncappable of finishing her dinner, she laid down on the couch to see if the indigestion finally passed. She ended up falling asleep. When she woke up, it was almost one a.m.. House was sitting on the couch as well, fully awake, watching a boxing fight. The dishes were still waiting to be cleaned.

"You could have at least put them under water so that food wouldn't stick to them like this!"

"God, you were so much nicer when you were sleeping."

"You mean _silent_?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"You bastard! Don't you dare treat me like some nagging woman who should shut up, because you're too much of a pig to leave dirty dishes rotting in the sink!"

"Jesus, Lisa! I forgot! You're not the only one who's tired!"

"I wasn't just _tired_! I wasn't feeling well! I wasn't planning to fall asleep, and now I have to clean this mess in the middle of the freaking night!"

"If it bugs you so much, I'll help you clean the damn dishes. Hell, I'll clean them all by myself!"

"No need, I'm feeling better now. Thank you so much for your consideration."

"Come on, don't be like that. You know I hate cleaning dishes. Usually, I cook, you clean the dishes. It's the way we worked this out."

"Usually. But I didn't wait for you to come and cook dinner tonight, did I? 'Cause you were coming later than usual and there was no reason not to spare you from that. And we could both eat earlier. Do I really have to explain all this to you? This is basic cohabitation stuff."

"We're not even cohabitating."

"Thank God for that, apparently. Although you do spend most of the nights here."

"Must be such a sacrifice for you then. So much of this cohabitation sample in which I so completely fail. Maybe we should unload you a bit. Give you a break from my unsuitable self."

"Don't get all offended. I'm talking about tonight's dishes, not your unsuitability as a boyfriend."

"You just gave thanks for not living with me and remarked right after that I spend a lot of time here. _Too much_ time here, I got your hint. But I'm the one who's fussy, so easily offended. Right."

He turned to the door. She tried to say something to stop him, but his walk was quick and determined. Next thing she knew, she was hearing the engine of House's motorcycle fading away.

* * *

"He can just be so inconsiderate, Wilson."

"You know he loves you, Cuddy."

Her look indicated that she wasn't so sure about that.

"It's like he's got his own world, which is a great and fun world to get in when he invites you there – when it's not all dark and self-destructive and terrifying. But you can never be sure when he's planning on being there all alone, completely uninterested about you or whatever happens in the outside. Does this make any sense?"

"Yes. And he feels that way as well, about you."

"What did he tell you?"

"Not much. Just that he's tired of being the one who's always chasing you and apologizing to you. He's very determined to wait for you to go to him this time."

"Why do our fights always escalate like this? It starts with something so petty and ends up being about the viability of our whole relationship."

"It's like that with everyone. Did I ever tell you that my last fight with Bonnie, the one that put an end to it all, was about the place we should leave our shoes when we arrived home?"

Wilson smiled and Cuddy chuckled.

"No, you hadn't told me. But at least you had years of being married and living together as an excuse."

"Well, why _haven't_ you moved in together yet?"

"I don't think now's the best time-"

"Obviously. But you've been doing great overall, better than even I expected."

"I remember you telling me these things never ended well, meaning me and House."

"That was when you two were pretending you could just have sex and be casual about it. Man, how long ago was that? You've been together now for what? Seven months?"

"Almost eight months."

"That's great."

She smiled sadly.

"Yeah."

"So, you must have thought about that by now."

"Of course. But I don't know, Wilson. We haven't talked about it yet."

"Why do you think that is?"

"You're sounding too much of a shrink now, I think I'm gonna call this session over."

"Fine. Maybe we can schedule another one at lunchtime? Oh look, it's one o'clock already!"

Cuddy laughed again.

"You're too much, I don't know how House puts up with you. But actually I'm not that hungry, I think I'm gonna finish these papers for the pediatrics inspection tomorrow first."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. But look, you should figure out what you want before expecting House to do so himself. Because it's up to you as it is up to him."

After Wilson left her office, Cuddy replayed her fight with House in her mind once again. The memory actually made her nauseous. Or maybe it was the cafeteria food again: she really needed to keep the kitchen on surveillance. The last thing she needed was for the hospital to be responsible for a food poisoning outbreak. She replayed the scene of her fight with House anyway, focusing particularly on the part when he threw in the fact that they were not cohabitating. Then realized that she was the one to introduce the topic. Maybe it was something that has indeed been on the back of her mind lately. He seemed irritated, possibly hurt, by the way she dismissed such possibility. And she wondered: if that's something he wants, why would he leave the damn dishes to be clean? He ought to know it would upset her. Had it been simple thoughtlessness or was he trying to get a reaction out of her on purpose?

* * *

Cuddy decided she would have an honest talk with her boyfriend. She still was not hungry, but she did have to eat, so she went to his office to see if he would have lunch with her, in some restaurant nearby. Maybe they would plan to go home together after work. Maybe to a place that would indeed be home to both of them from then on. Hers was bigger so it made more sense that he moved in with her that the other way around: there was plenty of space for his things. She expected that at least the piano he would want to bring along, not knowing if he felt any particular connection with the other pieces of furniture of his apartment. Perhaps he would want that they found a new place though, somewhere neutral for the two of them. She wouldn't oppose to that either. Maybe it would actually be the best option. She could rent her current house or sell it for a better price than what she paid for it four years ago.

She was having this stream of thoughts when she entered House's office. Suddenly, she remembered that before addressing all that, they needed to put an end to their fight and she realized that she hadn't thought about what to say over that unpleasant issue.

He looked at her quizzically as she didn't speak. Then he raised a hand that was holding what looked like a picture, and asked:

"Is this Jason?"

"W- What?"

He repeated the question a little slower. She came closer to his desk, behind which he was holding the photograph.

"That picture was in a box in my garage."

He simply kept looking, as if waiting for her to answer. Cuddy made a quick movement with the left arm to try to grab the photograph. But House was quicker.

"In a _closed_ box in my garage."

"With tape, not a lock."

"So you thought it was a good idea to rip it and snoop inside? And then to bring that with you to work?"

"Figured that since we're already in bad terms it was the best time to do it."

"I can't believe this! I can't believe I actually thought I was going to have a serious, adult talk with you."

"About what? Dishes? You're right, they don't get any more serious or adults than those... On the other hand, old boyfriends are a topic for children alone."

"Where are you going at with this?"

"Your mother said you lived with this guy for two years. How was cohabitation with him?"

"Oh no. I refuse to play this little game of yours. I'm betting you didn't even clean those dishes just to get a reaction out of me. And you took that picture for the exact same purpose. But you'll get nothing from it. If you wanted to discuss moving in together, you should have talked to me, not make up a fight. I thought we'd been through this. And if you want to know anything about my life, you should ask me, not snoop through my things. Now, give me that picture."

"Or what?"

She laughed derisively. "You _are_ a child. Fine. Give me that picture or it's over."

"You'd break up with me over a picture?"

"It's completely up to you."

"Must be one hell of a love story." He looked at the picture. "He _is_ pretty. With that leather jacket, disheveled hair and deep blue eyes…"

"Are you just ignoring the issue or should I assume that's your way of saying you won't give me the picture? You think I'm bluffing?"

"If you're not, then I don't want to be in this either."

They locked unflinching gazes. Neither of them expected this. They were however fully aware of the seriousness of each other's resolve. Cuddy swallowed.

"Seeing that this is over, could you please now return my picture?"

He held the ill-fated photograph for her.

"Thank you."

Was it silly that he could not but admire her as she walked away? Had Jason felt that way? Or had that poised, cold determination of hers broke him so completely that he could not even be impressed?

* * *

"Hey! Where are you going?"

It was nurse Previn that called him.

"Your patient just entered into cardiac arrest ten minutes ago and you're leaving?"

"I'm sure you don't need a doctor's supervision to use the paddles on him again."

"I'm telling Doctor Cuddy."

"Be my guest."

He was going to walk towards the exist anyway, but the nurse kicked his cane and he almost fell.

"What the hell?"

"The only way to beat you, is to beat you."

Nurse Previn grabbed the cane from the floor where it had crashed and went for the Dean's office.

"I'm sorry, Nurse Previn. Doctor Cuddy is not here."

"Where is she?"

"She said she wasn't feeling well and went home earlier."

"Oh. Alright then."

House was surprised to hear Cuddy's assistant. He expected Cuddy to be performing her Dean of Medicine role as professionally as ever. Could their fight – was it really a break up? – have actually impacted her enough to go home early?

"Can I have my cane now?"

"You leave on call and I'm gonna file a complaint on you."

"Didn't you hear, my girlfriend is not feeling well, I should be there for her. Then you complain to her."

"I don't know how Doctor Cuddy puts up with you."

House grabbed his cane and left the hospital at last.

* * *

House thought about going right into a bar, but ended up wandering through the park instead. Most people looked happy there. Children playing. People jogging. Young and old men and women holding hands. Were they just playing a role? Did he look like one of them three days ago, when Cuddy took him for a walk at the hospital garden and hooked her arm around his? She was whispering salacious things to his ear while putting on an innocent face and giving polite smiles to greet fellow-doctors and nurses whom they passed by.

Before he realized it was almost night. Then he did go to a bar. He was only in the middle of the first scotch when his phone rang. The caller ID indicated it was Lisa Cuddy. Was she regretful already? _Let her at least suffer for a while_.

* * *

The next day, it was barely morning when House got up and went to work.

"House, I've called you dozens of times all morning!" It was Wilson.

"Whatever happened to my patient, lupus didn't cause it."

"House, it's Cuddy. She came in on an ambulance last night. She was having abdominal pain. Appendicitis. Her appendix burst on the way here. The pain subsided at first, after the rupture, but… You should come, she doesn't look good…"

"Fever?"

"105 degrees. It's been rising ever since she got here."

"Have they removed the ruptured appendix?"

"No, they're draining the pus and put her on antibiotics. This isn't a case for you. You're the boyfriend here, not the doctor."

"They should have done the appendectomy right away instead of waiting to remove the pus. Research has shown that it creates less risk-"

Wilson was leading them towards Cuddy's room. A doctor was just leaving there.

"Hey! If you had done an appendectomy immediately, maybe she wouldn't have gotten an infection."

"We don't know if-"

"Have you met this moron, Wilson? He dresses like a doctor, but I've never seen him before. Are you sure you work here?"

"Let him go, House. They're doing everything they can. An appendectomy right now would cause more damage than good."

"Only because they didn't do it right away and let the fucking pus spread!"

"Dr. House, I know you're upset-"

Wilson didn't let the doctor finish though.

"It's fine, Dr. Melby. Let me talk to him."

Then he grabbed House by the arm, moving him away from the passage.

"Cuddy's in there and she's sick and scared. You should be with her, not causing more drama. Wait, are you hung over?"

"It's not like I knew she was sick while I was downing scotch last night."

"Right… Just… try to calm down. When you go in there-"

"I'm not going in there."

"What? What the hell are you saying? Now is not the time to-"

"I'll stay here."

"What the hell, House? I know you two had a fight, but she's sick, are you that proud-"

"She broke up with me. Last afternoon."

"Really? I talked to her last morning… I didn't get the idea at all that's what she was gonna do… Look, I'm sure you'll work things out, but right now none of that matters, does it?"

House didn't show any sign of agreement. Instead he looked down.

"She called me. She called me and I didn't pick up. Thought she wanted to apologize… She was sick and in pain and I ignored her."

"Oh, House. You said it yourself: you didn't know."

Wilson's best friend did not seem to find any solace in that.

"Regardless of your fight yesterday and her phone call, if you don't step up now and be there with her, instead of throwing a self-hatred party, then you really don't deserve her."

* * *

Wilson's advice did no good, as House spent the entire day and night in more than a handful of bars, drinking heavily and creating fights. Feeling too guilty (and scared?) to go inside Cuddy's room. Wanting to punish himself for being too coward not to go in. All the while telling himself that drinking would help to relax his brain so that he could take his mind off his girlfriend and come up with a diagnose for his patient. Until not even his own over-complicated self could stay away any longer.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I…"

"I don't know if I would. If I were you. I'm a bitch."

She attempted to laugh, but winced in pain instead.

His eyes stung. It had not even crossed his mind that she had been all that time, in that hospital bed, thinking that he had not come yet because he was angry at her or did not care anymore.

"Lisa…"

"I am. I made you an ultimatum over a picture. A picture of that bastard, what is more. That's what he did: he took pictures. It was his job. He was a photojournalist. He thought he was a damn artist. I doubt those two are even compatible. Don't you think? An artist has to be free. A journalist has a pretty heavy code of ethics to comply with. He can't just expose his own vision of the world. They're just not compatible."

She had a few violent chills. He put his arms around her.

"I wouldn't choose a picture over you. It wasn't about the picture."

"I know."

He kissed her forehead and felt on his lips how hot and sweaty it was.

"I know, sweetheart."

"I wish you'd stop testing me. I clearly fail all relationship tests."

"You don't. I'm an idiot. You're right: I should talk to you instead of creating fights. I'm sorry."

He felt her tremble in his arms and a sharp needle stabbed right through his heart. He felt useless, holding her so small and weak and not being able to do anything to make her feel better.

* * *

In the following hours Cuddy's fever got worse. Her heart rate was higher, as was her breathing. The blood pressure, on the contrary, was getting lower and there was fear that she might enter into septic shock, causing her organs to start failing.

* * *

On the bright side, Chase had found out what was wrong with House's patient.

Cameron and Foreman had been looking for the Australian for hours: although House had his mind elsewhere and they had barely seen him in the last two days, they still had a patient to treat. Cameron was particularly angry over their colleague's desertion, until a nurse told her he was in the chapel. She headed there, but before she could enter, she stumbled upon Chase who was leaving the chapter with shiny red eyes and a dazzled face.

"Brugada syndrome. He's grandfather was Thai. It fits perfectly."

"It does. We need to make the tests." A moment later, she added, "I didn't know you came here to think."

"I don't."

* * *

House was in the balcony, staring at the night falling on the city.

"Hi."

It was Cameron. _Great._ At least it wasn't Chase looking for a pat in the back, House thought.

"Were you… in a fight? You look terrible."

"And yet my blood pressure is peachy and so are my kidneys."

"Sorry. That was insensitive of me."

He didn't respond. She went to his side and put her arms on the top of the balcony as he was doing.

"I thought you weren't right for each other. I don't know exactly why. Maybe it was just jealousy."

House side-eyed her. She looked ahead at the horizon as she kept speaking.

"When Chase announced the winners of the bet, and you confirmed everything, I thought you were just fooling everyone, maybe to cash in on the pool. I even thought for a second that maybe you were trying to make me jealous…" she scoffed at her own foolishness. "Then I thought that maybe you were both just tired of being alone. I thought… I thought that you were too screwed up to love anyone." The young woman looked at him now. "I was wrong. You just couldn't love _me_."

"And now she's dying."

"I don't believe for a second she'll die. She's the strongest woman I know. I mean, she's your boss _and_ yourgirlfriend."

Cameron managed to provoke a slight smile on House. It faded quickly.

"You don't need to comfort me. It doesn't help me or her and I take no pleasure in the pain it brings you."

"It doesn't. Realizing that you actually love her, it hurt, I'll admit, but it also sort of set me free." Then she put a hand on his shoulder. "I wish you the best and that your girlfriend recovers soon."

It felt strangely soothing to receive her well-wishes. No one had given him yet, maybe because he kept harassing Cuddy's doctor for not having taken a swifter approach immediately. It was comforting to be recognized as a grieving party in the midst of Cuddy's sickness. Suddenly, he felt all the emotions of the last few days sink in. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it. He turned to the horizon, as his employee left the balcony.

* * *

The next few days were critical, but eventually Cuddy got better and the infection subsided.

After she was discharged from the hospital, things between her and House were somewhat awkward: now that she was cured, they didn't exactly know where they stood. They didn't feel like they were still fighting, let alone broken up, but clearly a burst appendix did not resolve any of their issues on its own. A talk was unavoidable. A much dreaded talk.


	24. Regrets

**Chapter 24**

And a talk did take place. Four days after Cuddy was discharged, she invited House to dinner at her house. After he arrived, they did not want to have dinner right away, nor discuss their relationship while eating. But neither knew exactly what to say. Eventually, Cuddy gathered enough courage and tackled their issues at the core. She started by saying that they obviously should reflect, as she had done and knew that House had done as well, about everything that happened in the past week, their fight and her sickness. But that there should be no hard feelings whatsoever. It was her believe that they should take this as an opportunity to decide how they wanted their relationship to evolve as of that moment. She had been thinking long and hard, even before all the turbulence, about them living together. It was about time that they took such step and see if they could make it work, she explained.

"So, in my perspective," she concluded, "it wouldn't make sense not to even try."

House had been quiet and unmoving all along. He had hardly spoken and not even nodded. Now the ball had been clearly thrown at him.

"So how would we do it? Where would we live?"

Cuddy was a bit taken aback that the first thing he said concerned the logistics of the change right away. Was this so painfully easy for him?

"Well, my place is bigger… And we spend much more time together here than at yours, so… I think it would make more sense for you to move in here."

Her last sentence sounded like a question.

"What about my stuff?"

"There's plenty of room for your things. Your piano, your books… I don't think you'd need to bring all your furniture, but I'm sure we could arrange something."

"I like my stuff. On the other hand, I hate moving. I mean, I really hate moving. I'm not trying to be difficult here, but I've spent my entire childhood moving, call it a childhood trauma."

She frowned. Maybe logistics was just the easier way to find obstacles.

"Well, I understand that, but don't you think your place is too small?"

"Come on, you're not that fat. You'll fit in."

"See, I can't talk seriously with you," she sighed. "Is this your way of showing me that you're not interested? Because if it is, just say so. I don't wanna push you into something you don't want."

House's lopsided smile disappeared.

"You really want this?"

"I do," she answered. "I mean, if you do too."

"What about kids? And marriage? Are those things you want too?"

"What? I'm just talking about moving in together, I'm not trying to trap into anything else or whatever you may think-"

"I'm not saying you are. But these are potential deal breakers, just like moving in together. If one of us wants any of those things and the other doesn't…"

She understood.

"You're right. As for marriage… it's not something I feel like I _have_ to do… I mean, I have nothing against it on principle… You?"

"Definitely have something against it on principle. It's an enormous display of pretense of social accomplishment disguised as love in order to get religious approval of something that should be between two people alone. Clearly not my thing."

"Okay… What about children?"

"I've never consider it before."

"I don't believe that. If you think it's a potential deal breaker, which I agree it is, then you must have discussed it with other girlfriends. You must have talked to Stacy about it."

"She was too focused on building her career and I was too focused on blowing up mine. From what she told me when we mildly discussed it, it was pretty clear she had no interest in having children. You know how these modern-days independent women are!"

"And you?"

"I told you. I've always been fine the way I was. Since she didn't want that or at least never gave any indication that she did, I never really consider it. What about you?"

"Well, I've definitely always thought that I'd have children. Just like I thought I'd probably be married by now. But life took its own course and circumstances were never propitious. Marriage, I'm fine without it. But children… yeah, I think it's something I want. Not right now, of course, but eventually…"

"You're thirty-seven, _eventually_ can't be that far away."

"If this works between us… I want to try and see if we can make it work. And if it does, eventually we'll talk about it… Unless you tell me right now that's completely off the table."

"You'd want to have a child with me?"

"Of course, I would."

The straightness of her answer surprised him.

"And if I told you that it's off the table? Would that end things?"

Cuddy looked down at her lap and then at her boyfriend.

"I think so, yeah. I'm sorry, but I do want children. If I'm with you and you don't want that, I obviously can't have that, neither with you nor on my own."

House nodded.

"I can't give you an answer now. If we try this, like you said, and it works between us, then I'll think about it. I can't make a decision about this on strictly hypothetical terms."

Cuddy nodded in turn. Then she looked up and gave him one of those rare truly bright smiles that had always been her secret weapon, if one is to take the word of her third-grade teacher, who hadn't been any more able to resist it than her predecessor. Those days, Lisa used to smile more, though.

"So, you don't oppose it on principle? You don't think a baby is a giant bundle of need that people selfishly have in order to fill their own need for inexistent unconditional love?"

He chuckled.

"That's actually quite accurate except for the giant part," then he added seriously, "Maybe… that's not really wrong about all that."

She put her hand on his. They leaned in and kissed.

"But I think we should find a new place," he said, "Not yours and not mine. We buy a new house or apartment or whatever you want, and split the price. That way, if you decide to break up with me, you can't just kick me out. Hotel rooms are expensive."

"Okay. Same goes for you: if you break up with me, you're the one spending the night in a hotel room."

They contemplated each other for a moment. House caressed her cheek and Cuddy had her arms around his neck.

"What if we both want to end it?" she asked.

"That's what rock, paper, scissors is for."

* * *

Later at night, they laid in bed, still awake. Cuddy suddenly sit up, said a quick "I'll be right back" and left the room. A few minutes later she came back and put a small drawer on the bed. House had turned the light on the bed-side-table on.

"It's a little late to start packing, don't you think?"

"This is me opening up to you, so don't stress me out."

"Okay…" he replied cautiously.

"Okay, so… These are basically photographs. That Jason took when we were dating. I had a ton of them, but got rid of most of them. These ones I didn't have the heart to do it."

House grabbed an envelope.

"Oh, those are from a trip to Vietnam we made. He was a photojournalist, had I told you that? He was good, great actually, received a bunch of awards and everything. Of course, he hated that and never picked them up. He even used a pseudonym. Anyway, he was assigned to make a piece about post-war Vietnam and I went along. It truly is a magical place.

House shuffled through the photographs. He grabbed another envelope, in which another man appeared in some of the pictures. It was Jason's brother, Danny, she told him. House recognized him from that other album, as the guy who had defended Cuddy from the quarterback who made a bet out of her. Danny had been the one to introduce her to his brother, years later, when she was already a resident. She was shopping in a local bookstore one day and found Danny behind the counter. It was strange to find him surrounded by books: the only kind of that species she had ever seen him hold was an exemplary of Wuthering Heights from which he ripped a page of to make a couple of joints after he ran out of proper paper, she commented through laughter. There was always something tragic about Danny, other than his family poverty and hardships, she mused. He had _something_ special about him, but not even he knew what it was or what to do with it. For all his easy-going attitude, he couldn't help acting as if inevitably misplaced. He had introduced her to weed in high school. He was also the one to introduce her to sex, although neither of them was in love. They trusted each other. He couldn't care less about school, but he was genuinely interested in her science projects and had offered to help her more than once, despite refusing to be her official partner, as he had no interest getting the credits they could receive as he had no intention of going to college. _I just find it cool to be your guinea pig_ , he'd say. After the bookstore encounter, he introduced her to the man that was his brother and soon after become her lover, which turned out to be the greatest fiasco of all.

"Jason was completely different from Danny. He had the same special kind of allure, but it was much more visible, it was like charm came out of every one of his pores. He was much more confidant. They were both pretty radical left-wingers, but Danny was more resigned and fatalist and he always kept his cool, while Jason would get all flared up in a discussion during dinner or at a party. And, God, he was talented! He took the most beautiful pictures, mostly portraits of people. From all around the world. Some he would give the newspapers to publish, some he would keep. There's a couple of my favorites from the ones he gave me there."

"Well, I see your point, but these aren't exactly _portraits_ …" House had now grabbed some intimate photos of Cuddy.

"God, I had almost forgotten about that! I don't know why I let him do that. Or why I kept them."

"They _are_ good. Can I have some of them?"

"No."

"Not even one?"

"No way."

"You let this guy take all of these and I can't even have one of them?"

"Nice try, but no."

"Fine. So, what happened between you and this talented, left winger, wonder man? I know you were engaged."

"How do you know that?"

"You grandma told me."

"Seriously? How much time did you spend talking to her?"

"What can I say, she thought I was a good listener."

"I'm sure you were the best, fishing for all the dirt on me you could get…"

He looked at her expectantly.

"It was the shortest engagement ever. We were together for about two years. He was always travelling, but it was okay since I was pretty busy myself with residency. One day he proposed, I said yes, and three days later he told me he had been offered an one-year-contract to make a piece about some war in an African country. I knew immediately that he wanted to go."

"So you called it off?"

She looked to the side and spoke as if reminiscing old words.

"There would always be some war-zone, some refugees' camp calling out for him…" she explained with resignation, as she heard these exact words replaying in her head from a different time and a different place. "It was good that it ended before we could go further into something that could never work out. He was adventurous and exciting, but he was also too restless. I had been deluding myself until then, but I'm glad that it stopped before we'd got ourselves into something even more complicated."

"And you never regretted it?"

"There's nothing to regret. He was uncappable of settling down."

"You were still a resident yourself, maybe if you'd waited…"

This made her remember another conversation, from years ago.

 _Foolish as a newly engaged woman could be, Cuddy had told her sister about the proposal. How painful it had been to give the following news. It wasn't just her heart that was broken, it was her pride that was shattered. Of course that as soon as Arlene knew, there was only so much time Cuddy could buy. After a couple of insensitive remarks, Arlene had asked why. Her daughter's response surprised her._

" _You were right. It would never work out. We're too different and we want different things." If Lisa thought that this would leave her mother with nothing to counter with, she had been wrong._

" _So, he's staying in Africa next year, I know. Well, you're young, you haven't even finished residency… A year is not that long. Besides, what's the rush?"_

" _I can't believe my ears. You're always saying how wrong he is for me. Now, you're trying to convince me to get back to him?"_

 _Arlene chose to ignore her question. "Maybe it wouldn't even be so bad. You could focus on your career, he could have his adventures. You're both young, there's plenty of time to settle."_

 _Lisa sighed. "It's over, Mom. You think this would be the last time? After this, it would be Tibet or Indonesia… Maybe Peru or Chile, who knows? It's just who he is. And I'm not staying here waiting for him to come back, not knowing for how long he'll stay when he does…"_

 _However, Arlene still wasn't convinced. "I'm just worried you're rushing over this decision."_

" _I'm not. It's done. I thought you'd be happy: you never liked him."_

" _That's not nice. I want you to be happy."_

 _Lisa scoffed. "Right. You didn't like him one bit and now I'm supposed to believe you want us together? Can't you see that you're just making this even harder for me. Of course. You just have to criticize whatever I do. I'm with him, I should break up; I'm no longer with him, I should take him back and wait for him for God knows how long. Why do you always have to be against me?"_

"That's what you think I should have done? Waited?"

"That would be pretty stupid with me being your current boyfriend and all. But there must be times when you question yourself?"

Her response came a few second later. "There are times for everything."

He nodded. They looked at some more of the things in the drawer, including her engagement ring, which Jason had told Cuddy to keep. Despite her ever-renewed desire to get rid of it, she always found herself unable to go through with it. Regrets. How painful they were.

She was almost asleep, entangled in her lover's limbs, when she said:

"Isn't this much better than what we could have waited for?"

That was a bold question. But she didn't want him to be afraid of Jason's ghost. Maybe she was mostly trying to reassure herself.

He held her tighter.


	25. Fight or flight

**Chapter 25**

House and Cuddy spent the following month looking for a new apartment. Meanwhile, Wilson had begun dating a pediatrician, Amanda. Amanda had a child from a previous marriage and Cuddy thought she was nice, albeit rather uninteresting.

"Just because you two have in common the fact that you couldn't held on successfully to your previous marriages, doesn't mean you share anything else."

"House!" Cuddy scolded, "They just started dating. That's exactly what dating is for: to get to know each other. Don't listen to him, Wilson."

"I never do."

"You also said you never came to your friend's open house and yet here you are."

"I never said that."

"Oh, right, I forgot you were a woman for a while. Hey, that's one more thing you have in common with Amelia."

Both Wilson and Cuddy rolled their eyes. Wilson didn't even bother to correct the woman's name.

* * *

"Why are you giving Wilson such a hard time about Amanda?" Cuddy asked later at evening, when they were alone at her place.

"Who?"

She looked at him impatiently.

"Oh, his new damsel in distress."

"She's no damsel. She's got her own career, her own place-"

"Her own kid?"

"What's wrong with that? Wilson's good with kids. I'm sure if they keep seeing each other, her son will like him."

"He's always been too scared to have kids with his wives, now he wants one that's not his? He's just forcing himself into a situation where he doesn't have to make a decision because the kid is already there."

"He's not dating her because of her son, Greg. You've been impossible these last few days."

"Well, forgive me if I'm tired of searching for a place after having seen dozens of them and you always finding something wrong with them."

"That's not true! You were the one who said that nice place near the mall was "too laud" and that other one with the backyard looked like coming out of a Brontë's novel. Which can only be a compliment, by the way."

"I just want to be over with it."

"Nice."

"Oh, come on! It has nothing to do with not wanting to move in with you. It's precisely because I want to and it's taking so freaking long!"

"But why are you in such a bad mood lately? Is this about your last patient yet?"

House's last patient had not died, but he has lost an arm and a leg and House – although he'd never admit it – blamed himself for taking too much time to come up with the diagnosis.

Since he did not respond, she kept talking. "Wilson told me about your concern over being too happy to be a good doctor. Greg, even someone like me who has a giant narcissistic guilt complex, as you like to point out, would think it's crazy that you're a worse doctor because you're in a relationship."

"Damned Wilson… Can't the guy keep anything to himself?"

"I'm glad he didn't. You should talk to me about things like this. If you think I'm turning you into a worse doctor, this is my business too."

"It's not you… It's just that happiness is a distraction-"

"And pain isn't? You said your leg was feeling better, doesn't that count as well?"

He looked down. She sighed. "Look, this has got to be the greatest piece of crap I've heard from you. And I've heard a lot. Maybe not being consumed by your misery actually makes you more aware to other people, including your patients' symptoms, have you thought about that? Anyway, you're putting me in a really uncomfortable position. I don't want to feel responsible for every time you think you screwed up at work any more than I already do as your boss. And this will never work if you blame me or this relationship for that." She lowered her eyes as well. "It makes me wonder if you're just trying to find a pretext to end this."

"You're right. I'm sorry. It was stupid. I just hate being wrong."

"You weren't wrong: you saved that man's life!"

"I took too long. But you're right. It had nothing to do with you or us. I'm sorry. I assure you I'm not trying to find any pretexts."

"Okay. I love you."

* * *

"Will you please stop that?"

House stopped bouncing the ball on the diagnostics' table.

"My goodness, Foreman! How edgy today!" Of course, House had noticed his team member's bad mood from the beginning, that was why he kept provoking him. "Big fight with the lady?"

"That's none of your business."

"His girlfriend broke up with him," Chase said.

"Hey!"

"What? He'd find out it soon enough, might as well get it over with."

"How do you know anyway?" Foreman asked.

"She was crying in the arms of nurse Connor. Very emotional," the blond answered. Foreman's ex-girlfriend was a nurse at the hospital as well.

Foreman closed his eyes even more angry due to embarrassment.

"You're one to talk. What day is today? Oh, right! That day of the week you love being rejected."

This surprised Chase. He looked at Cameron, hurt.

"You told him?"

"It just…" she sighed, "Sorry."

House smiled contently and crossed his arms behind his head.

"As interesting as your pathetic love lives are, patient's having seizures and we have no diagnosis."

Half an hour later, Chase, Foreman and Cameron headed towards the lab. Before entering, Chase touched Cameron's arm, keeping her from going in after Foreman.

"You know, it _is_ Tuesday. So, in case you'd forgotten or had developed doubts regarding whether I still liked you or not, I'll let you know that I still like you."

Cameron gave him a tiny smile.

"Thank you. For letting me know."

"Any time."

"Next Tuesday, you mean?"

"Any time you want."

"Tuesday's fine."

They both entered the lab.

* * *

The nurses had banded up in support of their fellow-colleague and friend against Foreman, making his life miserable. In the beginning, House had enjoyed thoroughly, but lately it had started to be too much of a nuisance to his employee and ultimately was undermining their work. House, of course, thought it was up to Foreman to fix the mess he created. If necessary, one could be sure that he would fire Foreman, if he didn't get his game back on quickly. Sensing this – and knowing exactly how important Foreman was to keep House on the right track, however mildly and mostly ineffectively, as he stood up to him the most – Cuddy decided to intervene. She called both Foreman and his ex-girlfriend to her office and called the nurse on her childish behavior which was disrupting the hospital's functioning and affecting patients' care. She apologized to Cuddy, who simply told her that she must put a stop to the doctor's persecution. She agreed and apologized again, before leaving the office in an effort to hold tears back. Foreman was a bit dumbstruck.

"I don't get it. When you called us to be both here at the same time, I thought you wanted us to apologize each other, or make some kind of truce… But you just chastised her."

"Because she was the one acting unprofessionally. But I did have a reason for you to be here and it was not to humiliate her further."

Foreman looked at the Dean expectantly.

"What you saw, just now, was me solving your problem. This isn't good, Foreman. Some angry or mocking glares, some muttered insults from the nurses closest to Rivers, were to be expected. This was too much. Some doctors are loved by almost everyone, like Wilson. Some are hated by almost everyone, like House. As long as it works for everyone, it's fine with me. I think you don't want to be hated but you don't care enough to make people like you. Which is fine with me, as long as it works. But the fact is that you couldn't handle this. So maybe you should take this as an opportunity to reflect about how you want to relate with people at work." _If you need people around you to like you in order to function, you should act more like Wilson and less like House_ , she thought but did not say.

Foreman looked like as angry as she'd seen him, but he didn't say anything, just nodded. _He's angry at himself. Good._

"You can go back to work now. Thank you."

* * *

Chase and House mocked Foreman for having been called to the Dean's office like a school boy to make peace with the girl he pulled the hair from in the yard. That evening, House was giving Cuddy kind of a hard time for not letting Foreman fix the situation.

"You just couldn't repress your fixer instinct a little while longer, could you?"

"It was becoming impossible, you said so yourself."

"I have dirt on pretty much all of those nurses. You think I wouldn't use it if I wanted?"

"What dirt?"

"Wouldn't you like to know… I told you he could fix it. And if he couldn't, why would I want him? I'm not training him to expect mommy and daddy to fix his problems."

She looked at her boyfriend thoughtfully.

"I think you see too much of yourself in him. I couldn't imagine two more different people."

"Have you seen our snickers?" House cracked. "He'd certainly like to hear that."

Before she could protest, he added:

"Look, I understand: it's your job to be the net under the cliff your employees constantly fall off. You give them security. But I don't want anyone in my team to feel like they have a net under their feet. Either they know their skulls are going to crush at the end of the fall or they'll never know what it's really like to take real risks."

"I think working for you every day covers that pretty well. Now… can we please stop talking about Foreman? We should be celebrating for finally finding a place we both like."

House's smirk appeared in his face.

"And how were you thinking we should do it?"

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe I could start by doing this…" she bit his earlobe, "and this…" she sucked on his neck and sat on his lap.

She kept administering her care, travelling downwards when he started to hold her more tightly, because she was in a giving mood more than a receiving one. She knew the receiving part would be even better afterwards, anyway. And she was proven to be right.

* * *

Two weeks later, House and Cuddy finally moved in together, after closing the sale with the previous owners. House had already given notice to his landlord and Cuddy had put her place on the market and already had two people seriously interested.

They were both tired by the end of the day, especially Cuddy, who constantly gave orders to the movers, but that didn't stop them from baptizing the bedroom that night. Afterwards, they laid tiredly and contentedly in bed.

"I love you so much," House told her.

"I love you too."

"Let's make a baby."

Her eyes widen.

"Now that's the definition of the sex talking."

He propped on his left elbow. "I'm serious."

"Greg… We agreed we would wait. You're just happy and contended right now, which means it's the worst time to discuss this."

"Should we discuss it when we're fighting and angry?"

"You said so yourself, you wanted to wait. Figure out if this works."

"It works for me. I've had all the trial period I needed. I'm sold."

She couldn't help chuckling.

"You're serious?"

"I am."

"We just moved in together. Today!"

"I was practically living at your place before. Look, you can take all the time you need, I just wanted you to know that I'm in."

She looked at him adoringly.

"That's… good to know. We'll talk… tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

The following morning, she woke up before him to go to work, as usual. But as she prepared to leave the house, he walked up to her.

"Stood up to kiss me good-day?" she asked him.

He kissed her softly on the lips. "And to tell you I'm still in."

She smiled and left for work.

He repeated the message throughout the day: he even paid a kid in the clinic to do it for him. By the end of the day, she was sold too. She told him so during dinner and didn't take the pill before going to bed.


	26. Companionship

**This one is inspired and takes some lines from 'Euphoria' (2x20 and 2x21) and 'Human Error' (3x24). Once again, canon events lead us towards a different yet parallel path.**

* * *

 **Chapter 26**

House's most recent patient was a cop with a sense of humor. Which Foreman contracted as well. Surely, it was refreshing to be in the presence of a laughing Foreman, were it not for the fact that no one knew what they had yet and the fear that it was contagious.

"Foreman should be here," Cameron said.

"He's a patient now," House answered.

"He's not irrational…"

"He's not objective."

"He's got the most motivation to get this diagnosed," Cameron insisted.

Now House ignored her and pressed on for diagnosis.

"West Nile, or Eastern Equine Encephalitis…" Chase attempted.

"Test Foreman's blood. Given that he's the only one that got it, person to person transmission is less likely than some sort of deadly toxin that Foreman picked up at the guy's home. Who's next?"

Chase and Cameron exchanged looks. They Chase said:

"We still haven't even analyzed the samples Foreman collected yet!"

"God! Do you always have to be such a spoilsport?"

* * *

The samples showed nothing and the patient – the cop, not the neurologist – was starting to look dangerously close to losing his vital functions. They did a biopsy on Foreman which showed nothing as well.

Cameron went to examine Foreman's condition after the biopsy.

"Biopsy showed nothing," Cameron said.

"How can it be nothing? You cut out a piece of my brain."

"It's nothing personal, we just didn't find anything."

The cop patient was screeching in pain.

"Can you just up his morphine for God's sake?"

"He's already maxed out. 20 milligrams per hour."

"What about toxins?" Foreman suddenly asked.

"Everything was negative."

"There was a cupboard above the stove. Did you see it? I didn't check all the food…but it could be listeriosis."

"I didn't go back." She pointed a flashlight in front of his eyes. "Follow right."

"Who did?"

"House said we shouldn't go. Too dangerous."

"The answer's gotta be in that apartment. Not going is too dangerous!"

"I'm sorry."

"You're thankful. If House would've pointed at you instead of me, you'd be the one in here."

"Look straight forward tell me when you can see the light."

"It's your job to go back, you're a doctor! You go where the disease is!"

"Say it when you can see the light," Cameron simply repeated.

"I'm dying and you're sitting here measuring how fast I go?" Her colleague was now yelling.

"Tell me when you can see the light!" Cameron insisted."

"My vision is fine!" he angrily shoved her hand away.

"Your left side periphery is reduced!"

"It's fine! I'll prove it!"

Immediately after Foreman bend over and picked up the needle which was laying on the floor and stabbed her with it.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!"

"Now we're both exposed. You got two choices: you can go tell House what just happened and get your own cot brought in here or you can go back to that apartment… You save me, the cop, and yourself."

* * *

House was waiting for her when Cameron exited the cop's apartment with the samples she collected.

"I told you not to come. I could fire you, you know?"

"Seriously? After everything you've made us do, this is what you'd fire me for?"

"This means you care more about being a hero than a doctor. I don't need heroes in my team. Unlike the ones from comic books, real ones are sooo boring."

She rolled her eyes.

"Foreman broke my skin with a tainted needle."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"God, you're weak. Guy tried to kill you. First thing on my list of things to do would be to stab him back. Shoot him. I've got a gun in my desk. Last thing on my list would be to lie to my boss about it and give the bastard everything he wanted."

"I'm not here for Foreman; I'm here to save myself."

"Ehh…" He shook his head: _no_. "Even with a needle stick, your chances of infection are pretty slim. That's why you're wearing the suit. You wanted to be here. He just gave you the excuse. What does that guy have to do to make you hate him? Besides being Chase of course."

"I don't hate Chase. Why would you say that?"

"Well, maybe not hate-hate. But you definitely have him on your feminine hate-ignore him zone. Why?"

"What's that to do with you?"

"Curiosity. And I always like it when I'm proven right. You don't like him, because he's so _fit._ He's not dying in six months, he's not a misanthropic genius with a gimpy leg."

"I didn't like you for your gimp. And I didn't like my husband because he was dying."

"You liked us _despite_ those things? Please…"

"Again, it's none of your business why I like whoever I like. You…" Realization hit her. "You want us to be together. Why?"

"It must be my matchmaker's big heart at play," he answered sarcastically.

She smiled at him.

"I was being sarcastic. You do understand sarcasm, don't you?"

She smiled even more.

It was House's turn to roll his eyes, but he had a revelation of his own before he could act on such an instinct.

* * *

"You're going back in."

The cop was using pigeon crap to fertilize his little cannabis indoors plantation. Of course it was full of fungus, one in particular that fit the symptoms perfectly.

"I was there. I should've found it," Foreman told Chase from the sealed room.

"Yeah…you could've saved us a lot of time."

"How is she?"

"She's not giddy," was Chase's stern response. "Fever's down. White count's improving." They had started the treatment, although Cameron was still working on the lab to get the results.

"Has she said anything to you?"

"You mean like, 'I can plainly understand why Foreman did what he did and I hold no grudge?'"

"What I did, did save my life."

"I'll still punch you for it."

* * *

However, the diagnosis was still wrong. The cop died soon after. Now, Foreman really was scared. They all were.

* * *

House entered Cuddy's office.

"I need a bone saw."

"I'm sorry."

"You said you would-"

"I wish I could-"

"I just want a little tiny slice of this guy's brain, that's all I need, just enough to tell me what's killing Foreman."

"A thin slice of Joe's brain could also cause a public health crisis."

"It's not a good idea to scream 'fire' every time someone lights a match."

"Don't downplay this, House. You put both of them in isolation for a reason. Joe's death elevates the situation to a biosafety level 3."

"Oooh. Level 3. We should call Jack Bauer."

"I called the CDC."

"Well, tell them we'll be really, really careful."

"We don't have the proper equipment for you to be really, really careful! You can do whatever you want to Foreman, but the CDC will do this autopsy."

"Whatever. The point is, we'll be lucky to get results in three days."

"I told them how urgent this is…"

"And they told you…"

"we'll have the results in… three days."

"Ah, that's a shame, because Foreman will never get a chance to know what it was, because he'll be dead in thirty-six hours. Maybe this is a toxin; maybe it's not contagious at all. You're killing Foreman because of a 'maybe.'"

"Well, you have thirty-six hours to figure out which one it is."

* * *

House told Foreman to do an autopsy on the cop himself and despite Cuddy's objections, Foreman tried, but he was already too blind to do it. So House decided to put Foreman under a ton of meds to see what which would work. By the time his vision was better, Foreman wouldn't resist enough time to discover which med worked by removing one by one and they were all back to square zero. House went back to the cop's apartment and retraced Foreman's steps with a lab rat. Then, he waited for the rat to get sick.

"You're seriously just going to wait for the rat to show any symptoms? While doing _clinic duty_?," Wilson asked.

"I'm also trying to figure out a way to access the cop's body during my lunch breaks, but those security men aren't getting any smaller by the hour. I could be performing an autopsy instead, but apparently that get boss-lady on her toes more than dirty dishes left on the sink so…"

"You can't seriously blame Cuddy for this?"

"Who else?"

"She's doing the right thing."

"To whom?"

"Wow. At least you can no longer deny that this isn't just any patient. But you shouldn't blame her because you feel responsible."

* * *

House entered Cuddy's office again. But he was not alone this time.

"House! What is this?"

"He's not a what, he's a who. They even have the right to vote now. Rodney Foreman, Cuddy. Cuddy, Rodney Foreman."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"This is Foreman's dad."

"Yeah, I got that."

"Dr. Cuddy here is the Dean of Medicine. Remember that cool autopsy I was telling you about, the one that would save your son's life. She's the one who can give us the green light to do it."

"I understand you don't want them to do it? Dr. House didn't seem to know why."

"Mr. Foreman, I am doing everything I can to get the CDC-"

"Won't be soon enough."

"-and my decision to follow public health safety protocols-"

"Oh, don't blame the rules. Don't hang this on policy and protocol."

"I'm well aware that it may cost your son his life, just as I am well aware that my decision has a devastating effect on family and friends without having them paraded in front of me. Your son has an unknown, contagious, deadly infection. If we don't contain it here, even more people could be at risk, and I am capable of empathizing with those people, too, without having them paraded in front of me."

"I understand."

After they left, Cuddy couldn't help crying.

* * *

Some time later, Cuddy visited Foreman.

"How're you feeling?"

"Why are you here?"

"Because you're a friend. And I should be here."

"I'm sorry House used my dad to try to manipulate you. You've got integrity; you're not going to change your mind just because you're confronted by my father."

"Thank you."

"Just like I'm not going to forgive you just because you're gonna come by here and ask me how I'm feeling."

"You know I've had no choice."

"Of course you've had a choice!"

"Regulations are clear."

"And the punishment for violating those regulations?! Is it death? Hmm? Because frankly, I'm okay if you get a fine, a suspension, hell, you can spend a couple of years in jail if it saves my life!"

House walked in and said:

"You're dying too fast."

"Couldn't agree more," Foreman answered.

"Hey, Cuddy. Having a nice visit?"

The look on her eyes was of unbelief and sheer disgust. She recovered though and asked.

"What's that?"

"A vial. Oh, you mean inside. Legionella pneumophila."

"And why are you carrying a vial of that around?"

"Foreman was perfectly healthy before he got this infection. Our cop wasn't, he had Legionnaire's Disease. Our cop didn't turn into brain food until we cured the legionella. Legionella slowed down the disease."

House put the vial inside the entrance to carry objects inside the closed room Foreman was in and caused it to fall in there. Shocked and angered, Cuddy left.

House looked at Foreman for a while before saying:

"Two weeks ago you were giving me moral lessons over rules existing because they ensure the best possible outcome for the majority of people. Statistics were never wrong, etc., etc. And I was just too much of a self-assured ass to think I could break them and get the best out of it. Now you think that thirty percent chance the autopsy won't infect anyone is worth it because it's _your_ life on the line?"

"I thought you wanted the autopsy too?"

"I do. I'm just pointing out your shameless hypocrisy."

"You're a bastard. I've got hours to live and you're giving me a hard time over this?"

House ignored his remark.

"Besides, just like you wouldn't die to keep Cuddy out of jail, why the hell would she go to jail to keep you from dying?"

* * *

House went home late. When he entered the bedroom Cuddy was already asleep. He saw the bottle of sleeping pills on her bed-side-table and sighed. She hated taking them and would only do so in extreme cases. Although he had spent most of the last two nights at the hospital, he knew she had barely slept as well. No one had.

Sighing again, he undressed and went under the covers. He wanted to hold her and to murmur apologies in her ear, but she was sleeping, and he knew things wouldn't be as easy as that.

* * *

The following day, Foreman apologized to Cameron for exposing her and asked her to be his proxy. He wanted a new biopsy, to which House was against. House had Foreman's father on his side. They were all back in Cuddy's office.

"It's legal," Cuddy said after looking at the proxy.

"He's out of his mind! Yesterday he was giggling about a hole in a guy's head."

"Then hire a laywer and challenge it. In the meantime, Cameron's in charge."

"Why would he sign that?" Foreman's father asked dejectedly.

"It's nothing personal, Mr. Foreman."

"My son doesn't trust me. How exactly is that not personal?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You're talking about this man's son. You're denying him the right to be a part of-"

"Oh, shut up." Cuddy turned to Cameron. "If you want to do the biopsy, do the biopsy. If House tries to interfere, let me know and I will take care of it."

"Yeah, you're a hero. If it wasn't for you, we'd be cutting into a dead guy's head instead of Foreman's." Cameron paused. "Sorry. And thanks."

Outside Cuddy's office, House told Cameron:

"That was great!"

"It was rude and unnecessary."

"More like cruel."

"You're one to talk. Go away."

"Give me time."

"We're out of time."

"An hour."

"What does 'out of time' mean?" came as Cameron's answer.

* * *

Eventually, both the biopsy and House's new visit to the cop's apartment led them to the conclusion that the water the cop was stealing from another building was the source of the problem. Foreman got better and his mind didn't seem to be gravely affected, although they weren't sure if there were some minor lingering effects: Foreman's last wish was to lose any part of his intellectual.

As soon as Foreman entered the diagnostics office on his first day back at work, Chase got up and punched him. After the initial surprise and despite the pain, Foreman quickly accepted it and nodded towards Chase. House exclaimed something in excitement and Cameron kept her quiet.

"He really punched him?" Wilson asked. House had gone to his office.

"Yep."

"What did you do?"

"What could I do? I obviously exclaimed really loud 'on your face, man!'"

Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Of course. Why wouldn't you support physical assault between employees? What was I thinking?"

"You think?" House asked with a sarcastically surprised face. "Anyway, good for him. Finally, he stepped up to something."

"Chase has stood up to you before. Even his deal with Vogler was about him standing up to him."

"I don't think standing up to someone means going behind their back to betray him."

"Well, he certainly got the best of you with that one."

"Please, how did that turn out for him?"

"With Vogler out of the picture, but Chase still in it, apparently."

"It's always good to have someone on the team who wants the job as much as he does."

Wilson nodded.

"What about you and Cuddy? You're still not talking?

"Yeah, she's playing that passive-aggressive feminine thing of her. Probably waiting for me to go apologize to her."

"And shouldn't you? She turned out to be right: you found out what was wrong with Foreman without having to do the autopsy."

"Yeah, after a biopsy that left him slow as a turtle."

"Foreman's fine."

House turned serious: "He's slow and saying stupid things or nothing at all. I don't know if he's cautious for fear of the biopsy having screwed him up and just needs his confidence back or if he really is screwed up."

"What will you do if he is?"

"Fire him, of course."

"He got sick on the job!"

"And if he dies should I keep him on the pay-roll?"

Wilson shook his head.

"Anyway, he only had the second biopsy because another one of your employees didn't follow your instructions and Foreman trusted her judgement more than he trusted yours."

"Foreman trusted his own judgement and convinced her to go along with it."

"Be that as it may, the fact is they colluded against you. You _did_ figure it out at the same time the results came, but they didn't trust you enough to wait for you. How's that Cuddy's fault?"

"That just means I should fire them both, not that I should apologize to Cuddy."

* * *

At the end of the day, House called Chase before he left.

"You punched Foreman."

"You waited all this time to admonish me?" Chase asked unbelievingly.

"No. I'm not admonishing you, I'm not your father. But I am your employer. And you assaulted one of my other employees in my office. How come you thought I would find that acceptable behavior?"

"Where are you getting at?"

"You're fired."

"What?"

"Do I really need to repeat it?"

"Foreman exposed Cameron! _You_ do nothing else but punch patients' parents, colleagues…!"

"Maybe that's the problem. You're here the longest. I don't know if you've learned anything valuable from me, but you seem to have caught the parts you shouldn't have. It's time to move on."

Chase looked incredulously. But then something appeared to have made sense to him or maybe he just felt, after all, a sense of relief. Maybe it was indeed time to move on.

"Okay. It has been a long time." He held out his hand to his soon to be former boss. House got up from his chair and shook it. "It was a privilege."

House nodded. Suddenly, he liked the man in front of him more than he ever had.

* * *

"Where's Chase?" Cameron asked the next day.

"I fired him."

"What? What's your game now?"

"It's no game. I can't have people who work for me punching each other."

Cameron shot a dirty look at Foreman.

"I was fine with it. Everything's fine." Foreman protested.

"Foreman tries to kill me and that's okay, but Chace punches him and you fire him?"

"Hey, I didn't-"

"That's right. Life's unfair. Another valuable lesson I'm teaching you, if you've been so privileged not to have learned it yet. Now go ask our new patient everything about his extra-curricular activities. Go on now, that twelve-year-old isn't going to get cured if you sit on those chairs looking at me like that."

"You fired Chase!" Cuddy walked in on the Diagnostic's office on a stride.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"You're suddenly okay with doctors punching each other?"

"Well, I've certainly let you off the hook with that one more than once. Doesn't seem like you think I should have."

"What you tolerate or not is your problem. This is mine. But hey, at least you're talking to me!" House said cheerfully.

Cuddy looked at Foreman and Cameron.

"You two, leave."

After they left, she said:

"That's why you did this? To get me to talk to you?"

"That would feed your narcissistic ego, wouldn't it? But surprisingly enough, no, this has nothing to do with you."

"Chase is a good doctor. And it's not like you care a whole lot about social rules."

"My decision is final and I'm not arguing it with you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. What are you going to do? Force me to take him back? How do you think that'll work? I've got freedom to choose whoever I want to work for me."

"You're serious about this?"

"I am."

"I don't get you. Foreman exposed Cameron and you did nothing. Now you fire Chase?"

"You know about that?"

"Of course, I do. There are cameras, you know, and patients stinging doctors with needles is something worth a decision."

"But you did nothing."

"Foreman was not himself."

"I disagree. He was exactly himself. Only more so, without his rational side able to control his emotional one."

"And yet _you_ did nothing."

"He went for what he wanted and he got it. It was selfish, but effective."

"And Chase?"

"Chase's action had no purpose other than impressing Cameron. This is a diagnostics department, not a soap opera."

"I thought you liked those," she countered sarcastically. "So it's all about the diagnosis? As long as it has something to do with the diagnosis everything's allowed and if not, you can't tolerate the slightest deviation?"

"Sounds like a sensible policy."

They eyed each other challengingly for a moment before she turned her back on House and left.

* * *

When House got home that night, he sat on the couch where Cuddy was as well, but on the other end, with space for two people between them.

"Quite the show you're watching."

"I'm not really watching anything. I was waiting for you to come."

"Oh, that's nice," he replied with spite in his voice.

After some time in silence, she broke it.

"What I don't understand is why you'd risk both of us going to jail to save Foreman. Why you'd risk infecting hundreds, thousands of people."

House said nothing. She didn't really expect him to.

"Wilson thinks you felt responsible, because Foreman got sick on account of your illegal diagnostics technics like breaking into people's homes, and your insistence to do the autopsy was a way of assuaging your guilt."

"Wilson's an idiot."

"I don't know. Maybe there's some truth in what he said. But I do agree it couldn't have been just that. You wouldn't put your clean conscience ahead of the lives of everyone in the hospital." She looked at him harshly. "But you _would_ do it for the puzzle." House looked to the side. "You would. You needed to know the answer, didn't you? Just like when we were in vacation-"

"I knew it. I knew you couldn't just let that go. Of course, you'd be saving that for the sake of a future argument."

"We're not arguing. And am I wrong?"

House was silent again.

"Right," she said in a conclusive, dejected tone. "You disappoint me, Greg. The autopsy was a cheap way out. A genius like you would have appreciated the challenge."

He turned to her and she thought that she had never seen him so pitiful.

"I wasn't getting any results. I don't know if that's because it was Foreman or not. I just… I lost control of the situation. Can't you understand that and leave me off the hook this once?"

His honesty did not convince her though. She understood that what happened was a rare and difficult situation for him. But there was something else.

"And yet you knew I would never let you do the autopsy. Even if you'd lost control of the situation and felt desperate, you wouldn't be stupid enough to think for a second that I would ever allow it. What then? You played games with me as a means of distraction? To take your mind off the fear of not diagnosing him in time?"

House looked down.

"I'm sorry."

She smiled, but her smile was scornful.

"Maybe you just wanted to test me again, see how far you could make me go-"

"Oh, we're back to that crap again? All I ever do is to get a reaction out of you, it had nothing to do with curing Foreman, no! It was all about you!"

"You say what you want, but that's all you've done from the beginning. Seeing how far you could go, pushing the limits, testing the waters. You look through my things, obsess about my ex-boyfriends, but what have you ever told me about _you_? You expect me to trust you so I fold to your every wish, but you don't open up to me in the least. Maybe you never intended to. Maybe I keep being just this arch-nemesis you like challenging: the mean boss who says no to your crazy genius ideas until you convince her to say yes."

"You really think that?" a dejected smirk accompanied his unbelieving tone. "Well, if it's always been like that, why are you making such a big fuzz about it right now?"

"You think nothing's changed? We're in a relationship! Instead of companionship and support, instead of a little empathy over having to make a decision that could either kill one of my doctors or risk the lives of everyone in the hospital, I should expect you to poke the stick deeper into the wound and be fine with it?"

"You're the one who keeps turning everything into a damn push and pull game, with your threats to break up every single time somethings happens that doesn't please you."

"Doesn't _please_ me?"

"People screw up. In work. In relationships. Why must everything be such a fucking breaking point for you? You're breaking up with me? Is that what this is about?"

A lump formed in her throat and she did not know whether she wanted to cry or slap him. She shook her head.

"You're a bastard."

She stood up and he saw her clean a few tears with her hand. He stood up as well. He did not like where this was going and yet he had only fueled the flames out of the fire pit.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" he said, hoping the conversation would take a step backwards, fearing it was too little a step. Indeed, his words only caused more tears to streak down her face.

"Sorry's not good enough," she finally replied.

Panic invaded his chest. She kept shaking her head, like she was about to do something she did not want to, but felt she had no choice.

"Why not?" It sounded almost like a whine. Her heart hurt. Sometimes he could really look like a scared, unknowing child, she thought. But there was now another child she had to think of.

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

The next day, after the team had diagnosed the patient, Cameron did not went home right away.

"What's up?" House asked. "Want a raise now there's just two of you to split my pay-roll budget?"

"I quit."

House's surprise barely showed.

"You think you can blackmail me into bringing Chase back by threatening to quit?"

"You did agree to go on a date with me."

"Well, I don't think Chase looks as good in a dress as you do, so no."

"I'm not blackmailing you. I just quit. Even if you bring him back."

"Really?"

House picked up the phone, dialed.

"Hello? Chase, yeah, it's House. You're on the team again. See you tomorrow."

Cameron looked amused. House expectantly and triumphantly looked at her.

"I still quit."

"What's your angle, Cameron?"

"No angle. There's no ending to learning from you and I could stay here forever and still learn something new every day. But I think I've learned all I could handle."

"You're not as weak as you think."

"I know. That's why I'm doing this."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Not to you." She held her hand to the diagnostician. "Goodbye, House. I'll miss you."

House ignored her hand. Instead, he picked up the phone again.

"Chase? It's me again. You're fired. For good now. Bye."

Cameron smiled sadly and left.

* * *

Chase opened the door of his house.

"Hi," Chase said, greeting Cameron who had come to his house.

"Its Tuesday."

"Uhh... no, it's Monday."

"I know, it's just... I didn't feel like waiting."

Chase smiled and so did she, before sharing a kiss.


	27. How new are new begginings?

**The medical case is taken from episode "All in" (2x17), although I believe no actual line is borrowed from it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 27**

Foreman spent the following month interviewing candidates for Cameron's and Chase's vacant places, while House dismissed them every time. The diagnostician told Cuddy that he and Foreman had successfully diagnosed and treated their last case on their own just fine. _Turns out, Foreman's brain is peachy_ , he'd said. Cuddy argued that one case was nowhere near enough in a month, but House was doing his clinic duty, obviously to give her one less reason to come to him, which she gladly accepted. House had pleaded with her the night when she broke up with him and she almost gave in with fear of what he might do to himself if she didn't, but she had someone else to think about now. Surprisingly, after a weekend of drunken debauchery, during which she had made sure Wilson prevented him from doing anything too crazy (which Wilson would have done even if she hadn't said anything to him), House had been the epitome of civility at work. Well, as much as he could ever be.

Taking a deep breath, Cuddy walked into his office. He had been wrapped in a frustrating case for the last week and Foreman was in the lab.

"If you came nagging me about hiring someone again, I ask you to leave. With my patient still dying, I have as much time for that as for dealing with you."

"If you _had_ hired someone, maybe you would have diagnosed your patient already. But that's not why I'm here… I…"

"Oh, God! Feeling moody? Nauseous? Angry that your loose shirts are about to stop hiding that you're showing? I can tell the breasts are demanding a bigger-"

"My second ultrasound is scheduled for tomorrow, at a quarter past four. I just came here to give you the heads up."

He eyed her with theatrical confusion.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? I know you're doing everything you can to avoid me, but I thought-"

"That's probably where you went wrong. You really expect me to go? And what? Hold your hand while you cry with the overwhelming sight of a blurry cluster of cells in a crappy monitor?"

She couldn't say that she hadn't been expecting his reaction, but that did nothing to lessen the stinging tightness in her chest. She could be as heartless as he was though.

"I couldn't care less whether you want to go to my appointments or not. And if you did, I certainly wouldn't let you hold my hand. But I think I should give you notice anyway."

"Don't bother next time."

"Oh, I will. I'm nothing if not a rule-abiding administrator and I'd never give you reason to rightfully accuse me of denying your paternal rights."

"Well, e-mail me the next time then."

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

"Being interrupted during the match of the decade by you, I suppose."

Wilson ran a hand on his hair.

"Look, I know you're hurting, but do you really think this is the path you want to take? I mean, forget Cuddy, do you really want to alienate your own-"

"She told you?"

"Give me a little credit, House. The visits to the bathroom, the ban on coffee and even strong tea, the loose shirts…"

"The popping out breasts?"

Wilson shook his head.

"You really want to cut yourself aside? What are you going to tell the kid in five, ten, twenty years from now? His mommy broke up with you so you pretended he or she isn't yours?"

"I'm sure it's mother will explain how much better things are without me and the kid won't even bother to ask me anything."

"You're an idiot. You're afraid she'll cut you out of your child's life, so you're doing it yourself first. She wouldn't do that, House."

"Why don't you go and leave me alone? You seem to be as worried as a good papa."

Wilson sighed and left the exam room as House turned his attention back to the boxing match on his portable tv.

* * *

Two days later, House's case was still unsolved. House couldn't believe that Esther would haunt him at a time he was down to a single team member. And, of course, Foreman didn't believe for a second that their six-year-old patient suffered from the same disease of an old woman that House failed to diagnose in time twelve years ago. Wilson neither. Only Cuddy had given him the benefit of doubt and that fragile free-pass was about to burn too, if he didn't come up with an explanation for the different course of action the disease was taking in his current's patient case. After giving up the desperate idea of digging up Esther's corpse to do an extremely late illegal autopsy, House decided it was time to fulfil his lecturing duties, by giving a class to a bunch of medical students. A class that Cuddy had dismissed him from. But maybe their stupid ideas would trigger a good one from him.

"What causes bloody diarrhea, ataxia, low blood pressure, kidney failure and a small mass in the base of his brain?"

"A lymphoma-," one of the students in the auditorium attempted to say.

"Oh, I should have added that it's not a lymphoma: his white cells are peachy. It's also not E. Coli and Erdheim-Chester: negative tests for both of them." Esther had been tested negatively for E. Coli and boy for the last one.

"Leukemia could-" the same student tried.

"Oncologist disagrees."

"So what? Maybe he's wrong," another student said.

"I like the assumption that's he is a _he_. But I agree with him, so what else?"

"This is insane! We don't have the charts, the results, patient contact! How can we get it right?" a student with an irritating voice said.

"And everyone dies, so what really is the purpose of being a doctor anyway, right? Quit whining. Either say something useful or be quiet."

Everyone fell silent after that. House took a pill. His leg had been hurting more in the last days. In addition, he was having serious trouble to urinate. He knew it was probably because he was abusing the Vicodin even more than usual, but his leg was screaming. So he decided to take another pill for good measure. He would sleep with a catheter if need be.

"Nothing? Well, remember: a kid might die and you did nothing to prevent it."

"He's your patient, not ours!" a student pointed out.

"That's a great comfort for his mother. I'll be back in half an hour. Hopefully, the whiners among you will be gone and the others will say something smarter." House exited the room.

* * *

"You're consulting with third-year med-students?!" an angry Cuddy asked as soon as she entered her office.

"When neurologists are of no help…"

"This is serious! And you're playing games!"

"I know it's serious!" House yelled back. "I need a heart biopsy."

"You know that's-"

"He's got a mass in his heart. Whatever it is, it's there. Kid doesn't have time for more theories."

Cuddy gave him a tight nod.

* * *

House walked back into the auditorium while one of the students was talking.

"He's crazy. I heard the nurses talk. Eight minutes! He left the kid dead for-"

"Yeah. Yeah," House interrupted. "Kid's brain is one of those bad casualties we like to avoid. You know which is the worst of them all? Death!" Foreman, who had come along this time would roll his eyes if he wasn't so concerned about the kid.

One of the students scoffed. "Death would be better than being a vegetable for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, the Greenpeace would totally agree with you. I see you've heard about recent developments. The biopsy on the patient's heart gave us three pieces. We've used the first one to test for we have one available piece of the patient's heart. We tested for histiocytosis and for Tuberous sclerosis. Both negative. What do we test for now? Oh, and can someone please get me a coffee. Black, two sugars."

"I'll get it," a student said.

"No, no, I can get it", another one said.

House eyed suspiciously the last one.

"You were the only one who a reasonable diagnosis before. Two, actually. You waited almost an hour for me to come back and now you want to be the one who gets me _coffee_?"

The student was a young woman with brown hair and brown eyes which looked a little frightened that House would question her. "I…"

"Things just got scary, right? A little boy, so many possible diseases, only one test… Fine, go."

The student left in a hurry.

"So, what should we test for?"

"The kid's too sick for Chondrocytoma, we should test for sarcoma," Foreman said.

"So you had already told me. Thank you for biasing all of the fresh, now not so fresh, bright minds of these students." Now Foreman did roll his eyes.

"We shouldn't even be here-"

"Thoughts? Anyone?"

"Wouldn't you have seen signs of sarcoma when you tested for tuberous sclerosis?" one of the students asked.

"What about neurofibromatosis?" another one asked. House turned to him. "Why?"

"I don't know. It's better if it's neurofibromatosis than if it's the others…"

"Being a nicer disease isn't a reason."

"It is. If it's the right diagnosis, the kid has more chances to live. Since it can equally be any of the diseases, we might as well put the chips on the one that pays off more."

House smiled slightly. Foreman didn't.

"We're doctors, not Wall Street brokers."

The student who had gone for House's coffee returned.

"Here."

"Thanks. Any thoughts during your quest for coffee?"

"Sarcoidosis. Sarcoma. Neurofibromatosis. I'm sure these aren't any novelties."

"Which one should we test for? That is what I'm asking. Why is one option better than the others?"

"Because it fits better."

House nodded.

"Which one?"

After too many seconds, House thought that she wouldn't answer. "Honestly? All the options we've got left suck," she finally said.

"Well, that's not an answer, is it? Okay, class is over."

House left, but he was followed by the student who had got him coffee all the way to the elevator. Foreman had gone to check the patient's state.

"Why are you following me?" House asked when the doors closed.

"You forgot your coffee," she said as she extended the hand which held the cup in his direction.

"No. I left it the table, because I take my coffee with cream and the one you got me a black one."

"You didn't tell me that!"

"That is why I didn't criticize you from bringing me the wrong one. Anything else?"

"Huh… I also got you these." Her other hand went to her purse and got him two pill containers.

House frowned and read the labels. Fiber supplements and laxatives.

"I think the kid's had plenty of diarrhea already."

"Not for him."

House eyed her.

"You were walking funny-"

"I always walk funny. It's a cripple thing."

"Your thighs were pressing together. I could tell you had back pain from the way your hand rubbed your lower back at times. And I heard Dr. Foreman complain that you spent half an hour in the toilet."

"You know, the thing about being unable to urinate is that it's not something you need a doctor to diagnose, since, you know, you're pretty much aware that you can't urinate." Thankfully, the elevator was empty but for the two of them.

"But taking these pills would give you a bloated stomach and who wants to work like that, right? Except that your tense bladder is keeping you from getting a diagnosis. I've read about you. You have a treat-to-test approach to medicine instead of the usual test-to-treat one. It provides results faster and more accurately until you have some sort of epiphany. Which means you use tests to confirm your diagnosis, not to give you one. And yet, you're putting all your chips on a damn test that can only cover one of the many possibilities left. Your restrained bladder is keeping your mind from relaxing enough to have your usual epiphany."

House's mouth was slightly open. The doors opened and he left, heading toward his office. The student stood in front of the elevator, struck that he had just left her standing there without saying a word. But he turned his head and spoke without stopping. "Now that you've impressed me, you don't follow?" She smiled.

They entered his office.

"So, you'll take those?"

"The kid's got little over an hour. Two hours at most. I can't spend that time in the bathroom hoping an epiphany will pop out."

"What then?"

"We figure out what's missing. Which piece of the puzzle we're missing?"

"Ian's symptoms skipped the-"

"Ian?"

"That's the patient's name, right?"

"I suppose so. I'm not sure. But how do you know?"

"Dr. Foreman mentioned it at some point, I think. Why does that matter?"

"It's an interesting fact. Shows you care about patient's names. Patients that aren't even your own. Like I said, interesting."

"Sounds like a pretty basic human concern to me…"

"Are you saying basic human concerns aren't interesting?" She just looked at him. "You were saying, patient's symptoms skipped…"

"His symptoms skipped two stops of your old case's train after the pituitary fail. You had put him on acetylcysteine, interferon and silymarine to protect the liver. And it worked. But it also shut down his lungs. So, which disease would lead to that course of events after one of those treatments? Leukemia-"

"You were going so well. I told you it's not leukemia. Even if there were occult blood cells, interferon wouldn't have made it worse, certainly not that fast.

"Kawasaki's-"

"Doesn't affect the elderly! That's two idiotic ideas in a row, now. I guess I was-"

"Maybe that's exactly the problem. Maybe Ian doesn't have the same thing the other patient had. Maybe we're making wrong assumptions."

House got a thoughtful expression and mumbled. "Wrong assumptions…" Then he turned to the student and asked, "What was it that you said before, in the auditorium?"

"A lymphoma?"

"You said, the options we have left suck…" It was then that the student witnessed, finally and for the first time, an epiphany showing up in the famous doctor's face. "It's none of the options left. It's something we had ruled out before. Erdheim-Chester."

The student opened her mouth to argue, but stopped, saying instead. "The train… before it skipped two stops, it hadn't even gotten to the GI track when you biopsied the colon!"

House called Foreman and went to the lab with the student on his track. After getting the confirmation, he turned to her. " _Now_ I can take these," shaking the pills that she had gotten for him.

* * *

The following day, House was in Cuddy's office with the student.

"You want to hire a fellow… that's not even an M.D. yet?" Cuddy asked incredulously.

"Yep."

"You're out of your mind!"

"When have I not?"

"House…"

"She triggered the diagnosis. That's what fellows are for. Instead of employing three of those, why not only two and an assistant who gets a much lower salary and does the bid just as well?"

"She can't do procedures, she can't even explain them to patients! Anything goes wrong, it's got law suit written all over it!"

"I make the decisions. Foreman and the yet-unhired M.D. fellow can do the procedures and the talking. Everybody wins. You can write her off as my… secretary in your precious budgets and reports."

"What? No!" the student said. Both House and Cuddy finally turned to her. "What do you mean 'no'?" House asked.

"If I'm giving up time I could use to prepare for my exams and lab projects in med-school, I'm not doing it so I can add a position as a secretary on my CV."

"As _my_ secretary."

"A secretary is a secretary, whether it's a doctor's, a lawyer's or a CEO's. They're all pretty much the same."

"You would actually be allowed to express your idiotic opinions on illnesses and treatments, not just get me coffee and run errands. It's just a title."

"Isn't there some kind of program for med-students or-"

"There's not program," Cuddy answered.

"Oh. Well… It would have been a privilege to work for you, Dr. House. And I really appreciate your offer. You really are as impressive as everyone says. Even more, actually." She extended her hand. House didn't shake it.

"I'm so incredible, but you're worried about titles? You're not even a doctor yet! Any of your colleagues would kill for a chance like this."

Cuddy thought she was going to say something like _I'm not one of my colleagues_ , as she did not seem to lack self-confidence, but she just smiled, thanked them both and wished them a good day.

"Wait," Cuddy said, making her turn when she already had grabbed the door handle. "We have a protocol with your med-school over summer internships for med-students in the clinic. I can try to get the Diagnostics Department to fall within the scope of that protocol. When summer ends, if Dr. House requests it and you're interested, we'll talk. You'll be in your final year and then there _is_ a program. However, all internships are non-remunerated."

"Sounds good to me," the student said.

"What? You won't be a paid assistant with the title of secretary, but you're fine with being an unpaid assistant with the title of summer intern?" House asked.

"Exactly."

"Well, then. I guess everyone's happy," Cuddy said. She turned to the student. "You can arrange with Dr. House when you start. If you need anything, I'm here, Miss…"

"Sarah. Sarah Anderson."

"I'm right here, Miss Anderson. Working with Dr. House can be… challenging."

"And yet so rewarding," House add in a mocking tone. "Come on, let's find a case," he told Sarah as he left the room.


	28. Beauty and softness

**Chapter 28**

In the next few days, House hired another fellow: a nerdy Indian cardiologist, Ned, who had disgraced himself in his last five jobs because he was as reckless as to have put a patient's heart on fire, which had just been the last of his inventive ministrations. He had no regrets, which was the main reason House had hired him. Indeed, when the heart started to burn, he was heard exclaiming "Fascinating!". He was made of curiosity and seemed to have no moral boundaries around his never-ending spectrum of crazy ideas. They were usually good ideas, though. Great, actually. His problem was that he was one of those geniuses who had trouble differencing the fantastic ones from the absolutely rubbish ones and wanted to try them all. House thought he was never going to be a good doctor for that reason, but he was certainly valuable as long as he wasn't the one making the decisions. On the other hand, the student, Sarah, had only needed a couple of days to seriously annoy House with her moral concerns – Cuddy had succeeded in convincing the university and the hospital's board to accept her internship in House's team in the record time of a week. Sarah was very serious about patients' consent and had refused to break into someone's house. She _had_ gotten into the patient's house, but that was not the point: she only did so after asking for the patient's consent.

"That's not the point! The patient's wife was with you the whole time, showing you the house around. Did you open the drawers in the bedrooms? Did you stick your nose in the toilet's cabinet?"

"You could have let Foreman and Ned go alone. You insisted on having me in it, just because you wanted to see me to submit to your own immoral ways."

"You're so moral, but you were willing to use whatever the team found in their place, just as long as you weren't the one to do the dirty job."

"I'm not a criminal, but I'm not a snitch either. The way I see it, you have different kinds of people on your team: some say sarcoidosis, some say cancer, some break in, some don't, why can't you use your resources for what they are instead of trying to change them and turning them into you?"

"The way I see it, someday – maybe next week, maybe next month – neither Foreman nor crazy Ned over there will be available to do the dirty job and you'll be the only one left and still refuse."

"Then just fire me. If what I bring for the team is less than what you need, than what someone else would, then fire me."

House smiled. "And miss the chance to see you submit to my own immoral ways?" She rolled her eyes.

* * *

"So much for keeping me posted like a modern empowered woman who doesn't need anyone, but doesn't want any trouble from her sperm donor." House said after barging in Cuddy's office.

"Sperm donor?"

"Isn't that how you empowered women see us men?"

"You're the one who've kept as far away as you can from this pregnancy, Greg."

It was true and he obviously knew it. But it was not the whole truth. At least not from his perspective. On some occasions throughout his adult life, he had thought about what it would be like to have children, always ending up thinking it would be a disaster, that _he_ would be a disaster. When he decided, impulsively and recklessly to actively try it with Cuddy, he never expected that things would turn out so bad so fast. House had jumped into making a baby because he knew Cuddy wanted that and he didn't want her to spend any more time without being able to chase that. He certainly did not want to be the reason that kept her from trying. But he also did not expect that she would get pregnant on their first month of trying. He had put the prospect of having children so deep under the rug his entire life precisely because he knew things couldn't work out. Maybe he did not _know_ , but he feared so. Now he _knew_. Here he was, expecting a baby that would most likely (certainly…) be raised by its mother and spend a holiday or two with him, maybe a weekend or two per month with him… Which was probably for the best anyway. The point was: it wasn't even borned, and House had already condemned it to dysfunctionality and pain. So, yes, he was angry.

"And you're the one who never even try to work things out. Are you so above the rest of us that you can't even look past one mishap?"

"One _mishap_?"

"Anyway, that's not why I'm here. Your appointment. So much about informing me about that stuff."

"As if you've been so interested in being informed. How did you even know about that? I didn't even have nothing scheduled."

"Are you done evading the question?"

"It was nothing. I just had a few questions and I went to my OB. Must I inform you every time I look up images of baby shoes and socks on Google too?"

"You met with your OB, not a baby fashion designer if that even exists. The fact that you're still not telling me means it's serious." His last statement was devoid of all mockery. It was time to stop beating around the bush.

"I… I've had a little blood loss for the past week. Intermittently, nothing much. Common spotting, that's all. But in the last couple of days it was a little more consistent, although still nothing much… Dr. Heady just told me it's probably nothing, but we'll be vigilant."

His face was inscrutable. "Any abdominal pain? Cramping? Fever?"

"No. Nothing. It really is probably nothing. I didn't want to worry you…"

"It's got nothing to do with worry. You said you'd keep me informed, so do it. That way I don't have to play this guessing game and we can limit our interactions to the strictly necessary." He regretted the brief hurt look on her face, although it was what he was aiming at – what better strategy than to attack, when one feels scared and powerless? She quickly recovered though.

"You're right. It won't happen again. I'll report to you as soon as possible from now on. Was this all or did you need me for anything else?"

"I need you to sign this." He extended a form, which she grabbed and signed immediately.

"You didn't even read it."

"That's Foreman's handwriting. If he's okay with it, I'm sure it's not too crazy. Now get out and let me do my job." She didn't want to burst out like that, but her throat was dry and her eyes stung. And she certainly didn't want to cry in front of him.

* * *

"I'm trying not to let him get through me, Wilson, but it's hard. It's like he completely turned off any feelings he had for me with a snap of fingers."

Cuddy had tried to shrug Wilson off after he learned that she was pregnant, but he was like a limpet, clinging to that persistent caring thoughtfulness that ended up winning over the starkest of people. So she had let herself confide in him.

"He still has feelings for you. Lots of them, actually. That's why he's acting like this."

"I get that he doesn't want anything with me, but the way he's been about the baby…"

"He acts like it means nothing to him because it actually is a big deal to him. I'm sure he just doesn't know how to react to all of this. Making a baby was a gigantic step he took with you, only to be dumped exactly when he found out you two had succeed in getting you pregnant."

"I thought you said you weren't here to take sides."

"I'm not, I'm just giving you his perspective."

"You think I shouldn't have broken up with him?"

"I… don't think that's for me to say. Look, he'll come around. Just give him time."

"Yeah…"

* * *

It pained Wilson to see his friends hurt like this. They were so right for each other and yet so wrong. Why did everything needed to be so hard? This thought was running through his mind as he left the hospital after a busy day of work, when he collided with a woman. Suddenly, all hardship seemed to vanish from his mind and – could it be? – from the world, as beauty replaced it…

* * *

House spent Friday's night drinking at a bar and Saturday in his sofa, altering between sleeping, drinking and watching tv. He tried to ply Wilson into coming over, but he couldn't reach him at his phone. On Sunday, he left the apartment to buy more beer. On the way to the groceries shop, he stopped in front of a display window. The sock was fold and empty, but in seven months it could be enveloping a tiny foot of a baby that he could suddenly picture in every little detail as if he was seeing him through the glass as well. He had Cuddy's eyes and her hair, his mouth and ears. His mother's perky nose. A lopsided smile much like his own, until it widened into laughter and was replaced by his mother. On Monday, House knocked on the door to Cuddy's office and entered uncommonly quietly, left hand in the pocket of his jacket.

"I just came down from your office. Of course, it was silly to think you'd be at work at a quarter to eleven."

"I had a rough weekend." The conversation was going in the wrong direction, but sarcasm was so imbued in him that he could not help his tone. He wanted peace, though. "Look, I-"

But she cut him off. "Let me go first." She stopped for a deep intake of breath as if those few words had emptied her lungs. The next words came out almost calm. "I miscarried Saturday morning. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but there's nothing I can do. The rest of the weekend went by in a kind of a haze and I… It is what it is." She waited for him to react. As he didn't, she asked: "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Nothing." He squeezed the small and soft package his hidden hand held inside his pocket. "Nothing at all."


End file.
